Senses
by mrslee
Summary: Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul'. When exactly Olivia had become this he couldn't say. But he knew losing her was not an option. EO
1. Sound

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Nothing is. Not even the cockroach that lives under Lake's desk that his grand-dad built!**

**Author's Note: Thank you all for your amazing feedback with Lies. All your reviews were awesome. This story has been in the works for a while, but only in my head. Finally, with the prodding of Sam and the brilliance of Scar, I've managed to put it on paper. I mean, type it on paper.**

**This story is not casefile. This story will be EO and smutty. This story is very much like Breathe, but not really a post-ep.**

**This story will be six chapters long; each a different sense, with chapter 6 an epilogue. **

**So leave me a lovely review and I'll update real soon!**

**This is for NettieC and Rach who always leave wonderful reviews.**

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"Someday I'll forget the colour of your eyes; the sound of your voice will be unfamiliar. Someday I'll forget that I once loved you; the feelings will have faded. Someday I'll forget" – Anonymous

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**Wednesday, 13****th**** October**

There were so many sounds he was used to these days.

The sound of whining.

The sound of his Captain's orders.

The sound of his wife's unrelenting requests for his presence at home.

The sound of his children's voices.

And the sound of silence.

Silence enveloped his world so much he felt it pressing in on him. In an almost suffocating and oppressive way.

Sometimes, he would sit up in the cribs to get away from it all, only to find himself wanting it straight back. The whining, the voices, the orders. At least they were tangible, things he could deal with.

But this silence between he and Olivia was something foreign and frightening. Something they had never been able to work through, despite their combined skills as detectives and competent adults.

Olivia's answer was to run and Elliot's was to confront.

These weren't compatible, and his chest tightened at the mere thought that he and Olivia were anything but. He couldn't remember a time where he'd felt so empty when his life was full to bursting.

His wife and he were trying to reconcile. Operative word being 'trying'. He was excited at the prospect of another child, but there was a nagging at the back of his mind that perhaps this time, it was for all the wrong reasons.

_Thanks for letting me come by_

_Did it help?_

_Yeah_

_Stay?_

He'd sit at his desk at work and dread the moments until he would get home and be confronted with a physical reminder of what happens when you don't exercise self-control.

When you let the desire to feel something override the logical part of your brain.

He shouldn't feel a sense of trepidation whenever his phone buzzed, indicating a message from his hormonal wife. Nor a feeling of guilt when Olivia's eyes would flicker to his momentarily as though he was betraying her by taking care of his Kathy.

His wife. Christ.

In the past, when he and Kathy were first married and everything was new, he found her cravings for tacos, pickles and ice-cream at ungodly hours of the night endearing; something that was natural. He'd smile widely at the innocent blue eyes that were fixed on his as he reminded her that it was his responsibility to see to it that she got what she wanted. They'd laugh about it afterwards; at how disgusting the combinations in her sandwiches would get.

But now, he felt a grating behind his eyes. In his head.

All over.

He wanted to blame his job; he wanted it to be because he was simply too tired to agree to her requests. But it was more than that. When he was lying next to her in bed at night, when everything was quiet except for her light breathing and his own thoughts, he no longer felt a sense of belonging and comfort.

He felt like an outsider. An impostor. It was like his house was no longer his home.

He and Kathy never really spoke anymore either; not unless it was something to do with the kids.

That was different though. With Kathy, there was nothing to say.

With Olivia, there was too much.

It killed him that when they were together, Olivia would seem surprised when he would speak to her, almost like she thought that it was something completely out of place; like communication wasn't supposed to be a part of their repertoire anymore.

Maybe it wasn't, he thought. Maybe this was it. Maybe the silence was all that existed between them in the first place. Maybe they were better at filling the gaps in the past when feelings were less complicated.

When their lives had seemed less complicated.

Silence was probably the only thing that would grow in a partnership no longer rich and fertile in possibilities and potential.

Elliot shook his head, squinting at the pages in front of him in the hope that the words would actually absorb into his mind. Truth be told, he had stopped understanding what was written two paragraphs ago.

_I've read the same lines five times and it still doesn't make any sense._

_You and me, we gotta do something._

He smirked at the nostalgia; those were the times when he and Olivia functioned as a unit; as a partnership. When they didn't have to communicate to know what needed to be done; it was unspoken.

No sound necessary.

He was so far away in the recesses of his mind that he failed to notice his Captain's presence in front of him, telling him to go home, to get some sleep, that he wasn't helping anyone by running solely on coffee and adrenaline.

"Elliot, go home to your wife," he looked up to the tired eyes of his boss.

"Cap, I can't," he was surprised at how broken he felt, at how helpless he seemed to be.

Cragen settled an even gaze on him, the empty air swirling around them as he was appraised, "just an hour or two in the cribs. You won't help her like this"

Elliot nodded, the squeak of his chair echoing loudly in the empty bull-pen. Before he realised, his feet had carried him to the locker room, his eyes falling on her name taped on the scratched and rusted surface. He ran his fingers across the fading print, remembering their conversation eighteen months ago.

_It looks so un-kept El, there must be a piece of masking tape around here that I could stick over it?_

_It gives it character Liv, why are you trying to fix something that isn't broken?_

The look that she had given him had stopped his heart, the double-meaning behind their words not lost on either of them.

Eighteen months later, he could scarcely believe that they had been reduced to meaningful looks and unspoken words.

Inaction would only get them so far.

Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, he should have listened.

Maybe, if he had, Olivia would still be here.

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**Tuesday, 12****th**** October, the previous day**

He hated the fact that they could no longer look each other in the eyes for more than two seconds. Sometimes he'd look up and find her gaze directed at him and he was filled with the distinct feeling that she was looking through him. She was always best at that; seeing through him.

She saw through the machismo he put on when confronting the scum they came by everyday.

She saw through bravado when he counselled children that reminded him so much of his own.

And despite their lack of communication, she could see through the reasons that he constantly gave those around him when asked questions concerning his wife and her impending delivery date.

_So, when's Kathy due?_

_Soon, real soon_

_You must be excited, man_

_Yeah, real excited_

He glanced at Olivia after answering Booth from Homicide, and saw more than heard the derisive snort she gave at his answer. She had been doing that a lot recently, and he knew he wasn't much better. But he was particularly touchy when it had to do with his family and the skin of his teeth with which he was holding onto an ideal that he no longer felt a strong connection with. He loved his children there was no question of that.

But did he love Kathy, or did he love the idea of being a family again?

The mere fact that he was questioning that scared the shit out of him, and the fact that Olivia was questioning that too frightened him even more. But then again, maybe as his partner she was only looking out for his best interests.

But lately, their inability to communicate had begun to affect their effectiveness and ability to work together as a cohesive unit. Cragen had begun to split them up with Fin and Lake more often, and interrogation was no longer conducted with the same smooth efficiency that they had taken for granted.

They shared the same office, the same desk partition, the same air.

But the few words they did speak often disappeared into the cavernous gap that sat innocuously between them; both the spoken and unspoken.

When they did talk, it was abrasive and straight to the point, and almost always ended in fiery arguments that increased tension in the squad-room ten-fold.

None had been worse than the argument that day.

"_I can't believe that Judge Donnelly let Rushton out on bail"_

_They had nodded; vowing to go through the evidence with a fine-toothed comb to make sure all areas had been covered. _

"_Victim says she was attacked from behind by Rushton, pushed onto her bed and then raped," Olivia read off the report in front of her._

"_Was there any fluid?"_

_Olivia shook her head, "No, just spermicide from the condom the perp used."_

"_Why would Rushton go to all the trouble to pull on a condom when she was incapacitated?" Elliot had asked, meeting her gaze for a full five seconds._

_Something behind her eyes had flared, her stance becoming more defensive. And he knew what was coming before it happened. He had the power to stop it, he had the time to stop it, but he needed to feel something. He needed to experience something other than indecision and confusion._

_So he let it happen._

"_Just because you have no idea how to use one, Elliot, doesn't mean all men are as incapable."_

_The silence that followed had been incredibly uncomfortable. Fin had excused himself to use the bathroom; Cragen had eyed them both with a furrowed brow, and Lake pulled out his cell-phone as though answering a call. _

_His lip had curled and Olivia was still looking at him. _

_She was looking at him more than she had in the past 8 months combined, and it rocked him to his core. But she had taken a low-blow and he wasn't going to let it slide this time._

_With his lip curled and his eyes narrowed he spat back, "and what's that supposed to mean Detective Benson?"_

_Olivia looked visibly thrown off by the use of his use of her surname, "do I need to explain it to you as well? You want a diagram?"_

_He shot to his feet, unsettling the file that had been sitting in front of him. The papers fell to the floor completely unnoticed; the entire room had stilled around them._

_Off they'd go, replaying the old rhythmic tension that began with Gitano, with a crescendo into their fault._

Is there something you want to say to me? Because if you do, then let's hear it. 

Why didn't you shoot Gitano? 

He was using the child as a shield.

How could you let him get so close to you? 

There were innocent civilians around. I couldn't get a shot. 

Well, you got close, and Ryan's dead. 

So this is my fault?

"_Tell me what this is really about Olivia. Tell me why I think that every move and decision I make is somehow affecting you in the process!"_

_He had made his way to within a foot of her face, each punctuated word moving the hair that had fallen across her face. He wanted badly to move it behind her ear, just to feel the silky strands on his fingers, but he shook his head, waiting for her response._

"_Because I'm your partner, and I don't want either of us to be held accountable if you screw up. I like my job thank you very much," her teeth were bared as she practically growled at him, "and as much as it no longer matters to you anymore, try and keep focused ok?"_

_His eyes widened at her words, "since when did you become Captain Olivia? Did you pass the exam while my back was turned?"_

_Her lips curled into a sneer, "you wouldn't notice if we waltzed around the precinct naked for all the effort you've been putting in recently, so don't patronise me okay?"_

_He had to stop a minute to get the image of a naked Olivia out of his mind, but the anger continued to push through, "don't tell me I'm not doing my job properly Olivia. I'm not the one who let serial rapists get away because she was too absorbed in her own little word," her eyes widened as he loomed over her, "I'm not the one who jeopardised my partner's job because she couldn't keep her nose within her own jurisdiction," he let out an incredulous puff of air, "and I'm not the one who ran off like a coward when the going got rough"_

_Tears had begun to form in Olivia's eyes, and he tried his best to maintain his composure. It killed him to see her like this. _

"_How dare you?" Her voice was a dangerous whisper, all sense of disdain gone; replaced now with an irrevocable hurt and anguish that scared the shit out of him._

_They knew how to press each other's buttons, but it was always for the wrong reasons. Since their partnership had started going downhill they had never used their words to help repair it. Only to damage._

_Always to dent it a little more, to scratch at its surface like a bad itch. Of course, it would only make it worse. It would begin to bleed eventually; and if it wasn't allowed to heal properly, it would scar. A permanent reminder of past mistakes._

_They now stood within the other's personal boundaries, sucking in deep breaths of air, daring the other to make the next move. The pain he had seen behind her eyes had been replaced now with a steely resolve, her eyes flicking between his own._

_She shook her head at him in disgust, slamming the folder she was holding in her hand on her desk before turning on her heel to stalk out of the precinct._

"_That's right Olivia," he began before he could stop himself, "run again, it's what you're best at right?"_

_He understood now why it was called verbal diarrhoea. The words were leaving his mouth without a filter to stop what was allowable and what wasn't. He knew as the words spilt out that they would hit her where she was most sensitive, that she would probably turn around and slap him in the face like he knew he deserved. She paused at the doorway, head bent, back slouched as though she was defending herself from what he was throwing at her. Normally, it was only a matter of seconds before she would turn again to let fly, but he could see that this time it was different. _

_The resolve that Olivia had, had in a ready supply seemed to have dissipated. She looked tired and worn and he was sure that he looked the same. Even though he knew it was going to come, it still tore at the recesses of his chest. Of his whole body._

_The sound of silence._

_She moved into the corridor, disappearing down into the mass crowd._

_Olivia was giving up on them._

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**Wednesday, 13****th**** October**

The silence of the cribs used to be comforting to him. A place he could go to get away from the hell that he constantly faced at his desk. But he was now left alone with his own thoughts at a time when all he wanted to do was crawl under the sheets of his own apartment and watch the television Dickie had bought him with his pocket money for his birthday.

Sure, it was black and white, but he could make out the people that were on the screen and that's all that really mattered. All he had to look at now was the bottom of the bunk above his, more specifically the planks of wood supporting the mattress.

A wave of nausea hit him as his mind wandered back to the argument that he and Olivia had the day before. He rose quickly from the bed, moving with long strides to the bathroom in the adjacent room. As he dry-retched into the porcelain bowl, he remembered that he had eaten nothing since the night before. Nothing for breakfast, nothing for lunch and nothing for dinner. Just coffee throughout the day to keep him going. Because it was something that reminded him of Olivia.

Olivia.

As the sounds of the precinct had begun to return to normal after Olivia's dramatic departure, Elliot had turned to see Cragen eyeing him with a distinct look of disappointment. He had simply shrugged and returned to the tedium that was phone leads behind his desk, even accepting the coffee that Lake had offered him cautiously an hour later.

Lunch had come and gone and Olivia had yet to return to her desk. He hadn't been especially worried; if he had walked out, it would have to have taken an emergency for him to have shown up again.

The end of the day had come quickly, as he and Fin had caught a case that saw them out of the house for the majority of the afternoon. Olivia's desk had looked untouched when they had returned, and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach as worry began to creep into his mind. He tried to call her mobile, but it went straight to her voicemail each time. The same happened when he called her house phone.

Cragen was missing from his office, and Kathy had been in dire need of cookie dough ice-cream, so he pushed his concern to the back of his mind momentarily as he continued his out of work routine.

He should have tried harder to find her, to see if she was ok.

He sat back on his haunches as his gut contracted at the guilt he felt. He swiped at where saliva had settled on his chin, his hands shaking. He closed his eyes, trying to gain some sort of composure.

_I'm not the one who ran off like a coward when the going got rough_

Tears began to leak down his cheeks as he took in deep shuddering breaths, the effort wracking his entire body. The small cubicle spun around him as he moved through the swinging door. He made his way slowly to the sink, turning the tap to allow some sort of sound to emanate in the large room. He watched the water seep through the drain, before cupping his hands under the flow to fill the space before splashing the cool liquid against his hot skin. He did it as many times as it took for his face to feel numb from the cold, and even beyond that just so that he could focus on a different sort of pain.

He eventually turned the faucet off, settling his hands on the edge of the sink as he took his in appearance in the mirror in front of him. His tired blue eyes stared back at him, now rimmed with red at both his exhaustion and emotional exertions. He shook his head at his stupidity.

_Run again, it's what your best at right?_

If he had known those would be the last words he spoke to Olivia Benson, he would give the world to take it back.

If he had known that she was going to be taken, he would've grabbed her in that doorway, and finally bridged the gap that existed between them.

If he had known that he loved her so much it made his soul ache, he would've moved the strands of hair behind her ear and kissed her until she understood.

If he known that following Olivia to her parked car despite any protests would have saved her, he would have risked the arguments to follow.

Because he couldn't handle the silence.


	2. Sight

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. But I'm trying, believe me!**

**Author's note: This story is taking so long to review, not because it's hard to get out, but because there's so much terrain to cover. These two characters are practically 900 dimensions, and that's just scraping the surface. So, I've tried my best.**

**This is for Scar, for prodding me along with great support. Please, read and review. Thanks!**

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"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken"

Fydor Dostoevsky.

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**Thursday, October 14****th**

His last effort to resist wakefulness ended at about dawn. Five hours of broken sleep was more than he felt he deserved, but his whole being was too exhausted for him to continue. So he slept without resting.

More than anywhere, the pain he was feeling had settled behind his eyes, pressing in on the nerves that dictated what he was seeing. What he did see in front of him were those damn bars of wood holding the mattress above him.

Strong, hard, supportive. Everything he wasn't at the moment.

It wasn't what he wanted to see right now.

More than anything, he wanted to go back downstairs to the precinct and see Olivia with her head bent over a pile of paperwork on her desk. He wanted to see her look up at him briefly, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly as she noticed him noticing the mountain of work they had to get done.

He wanted to see her reach for his coffee mug without asking if he wanted any, just because she knew that he was quickly reaching the end of his caffeine induced lucidity.

He wanted to see Olivia.

Despite the light that had crept through the curtained windows, the room was still quite dark. And extremely quiet, save for the detective he recognised from narcotics who was snoring lightly from the corner of the room. He successfully manoeuvred his way to the locker room, purposefully keeping his eyes averted from the locker immediately to the right of his.

He dressed quietly, pulling on a clean suit that Kathy had, had pressed for him. She had smiled coyly, rubbing her expanding belly as she claimed it was the reason she could no longer do it by hand. He had smiled back half-heartedly, assuring her it was ok, because he had other things on his mind that were more important.

Things like attending a gynaecological exam for a seven year old to determine whether or not her forty year old uncle had abused her.

Things like testifying in court on behalf of an eleven year old boy whose maths teacher had told him it was "ok" to touch him in his places that even his parents weren't allowed to go near.

Things that she would never understand. Things that he would never want her to have to see with her own two innocent blue eyes. His own were jaded enough for the both of them.

_You never talk to me anymore Elliot_

_I just want to keep the kids safe from all the bad in the world, you know that_

_I never said anything about the kids, Elliot, I'm talking about us_

_It's too complicated right now_

_Will it ever get any easier?_

_I don't know_

Elliot slammed the locker door closed, revelling in the way that how the noise reverberating around the room took his mind momentarily off Olivia.

He paused at the door to the squad-room, his eyes panning the room full of people; it was buzzing with officers working over-time. Fin and Munch weren't at their desks, and he assumed they were out on a lead. Lake was at his though, speaking on his phone, his pen a blur as he wrote frantically.

His gaze moved to his desk; and Olivia's empty one. The pain in his gut intensified and he fought hard to keep the bile rising in his throat down.

Cragen watched his approach to his desk carefully, taking in his haggard and exhausted appearance. But he stopped short of saying anything. Which was a wise thing to do. If Cragen said something to upset him, he was in no position to be held accountable for his actions, which would almost certainly involve contact between his fist and someone's head.

"You sleep ok?"

He shook his head. There was no point lying to Cragen; not when time was of the essence.

"Do we know anything else?"

Cragen sighed, "Not since last night, Elliot"

Elliot looked up at his Captain, trying his best to keep his emotions in check. He'd expended enough emotion in public for the rest of his career, and he'd never felt so overwhelmed by anguish and despair. The last time he'd felt like this was when he entered his house in Queens and not seen the smiling faces of his children.

Another pang of guilt sliced at him when he realised he hadn't tried to contact his wife in almost 24 hours. He made a mental note to check his phone when he got the chance.

"We're all working around the clock to find her, Elliot," Cragen moved to stand to Elliot's right. He paused in his speech and Elliot felt a sense of dread before the words came out, "But I want you out of the field when we get a lead"

His head shot up so fast he was sure he'd get whiplash, but before he could answer, Cragen had raised his hand to silence him, "I don't want to hear it. You're too emotionally invested in this to be effective in the field."

"But Cap, she's my partner. She needs me," his voice broke, catching in his throat; his body began to vibrate with anger and remorse.

Cragen shook his head, "if you were out there and found the person who had her, what would you do Elliot?"

He knew the answer before he said it, but it didn't make it right. If he found Robert Ashton before anyone else, he'd kill the son-of-a-bitch without a second thought. He had Olivia and he was taunting them and there was no way that Elliot would allow the asshole to get away with it.

"…here, running any leads we get through the phones," he barely noticed Cragen was speaking until he caught the end of his sentence.

He felt the burning behind his eyes intensify, and the images in his line of sight began to blur. Without answering Cragen he found that his feet had carried him to an empty interrogation room off the busy corridor.

The interrogation room where they had interviewed Robert Ashton two months ago.

"_It make you feel good to attack women from behind Robert?"_

_Ashton was looking at Elliot with sheer contempt, his mouth fixed with a permanent sneer. His eyes had previously been on Olivia, devouring her as she moved behind Elliot. He wanted to slap the look he had on his face off with his open palm. He wanted to see his hand imprinted on the side of this fucker's cheek._

_He wanted to see him hurt for looking at Olivia like that._

"_I get them however I want them"_

_His eyes were on Olivia again, who was now in the corner of the room with a disinterested look on her face. It wasn't the first time that she had been the object of some perp's random affection. But Elliot's gut felt that this time it was different._

_It was something in Ashton's eyes that unsettled him._

_Ashton turned back to Elliot, "And I get whoever I want"_

And now Ashton had Olivia at a place he refused to disclose. The only thing they knew for sure was for the moment, Olivia was alive and breathing. Her physical condition was unknown and he hadn't heard her speak since Wednesday afternoon. At the time, her voice had been small, fragile and scared as hell, and it killed him to know that she was swallowing her pride just so she could let him know that she was hanging in there.

"_It's Ashton!"_

_Elliot's heart constricted as he and Morales bolted to Fin's desk, where he put his phone on loud-speaker so they could hear Ashton's voice._

"_Where the hell is she Ashton?"_

_He didn't realise that he'd said anything until the words had fallen from his mouth; loud and punishing. Possessing a strength that at that moment, he didn't really feel he had. Not when his other half wasn't there beside him. _

_Not when his partner was in the hands of an asshole capable of the worst sorts of crimes known to mankind. _

"_Detective Stabler?" Rushton's voice was cocky and self-assured. _

_Elliot's fists closed and opened repeatedly; and it was all he could do not the pick up the phone and throw it half-way across Manhattan._

"_I'm so glad I could reach you Detective, did you get my note?"_

_Elliot bared his teeth, shaking his head angrily at the audacity of this prick. The note that he had left on the windshield of Elliot's car that morning had torn at Elliot's insides; it was simple and to the point, but each word was like sword through his heart:_

_**You turn your back on your partner? Well I like them from behind. **_

_**She's mine now, Detective. And there's not much you can do.**_

_**But we all have a chance at redemption. **_

_**Wait for my call, or she dies**_

_**Robert Ashton**_

_He had even signed off on the note personally, and that was dangerous. If Ashton felt there was nothing to lose, he would have no problem getting rid of any excess baggage if the time came to run. And at that moment, Olivia was excess baggage._

"_I read your note, you prick, now tell me where Olivia is!"_

_It was taking all his might not to scream at the phone in front of him, but if Olivia was to come out of this alive, he needed to calm down. And he owed it to Olivia to do all he could to get her out of this unscathed._

"_You mean Detective Benson, Detective?"_

_He listened as he heard a struggle wherever Ashton was. He turned to his left as he watched Morales typing furiously as he tried to get the computer to trace the call._

"_You know who I mean, Ashton, I want to hear Detective Benson's voice"_

_He heard Ashton's derisive snort and he clenched his fist so tightly his nails began to cut into his palm._

"_El?"_

_His heart constricted and his throat dried up completely as Olivia's voice echoed in the squad-room. A room he felt was now twice the size it normally was, but to him it was empty. As far as he was concerned it was just Olivia and him in that room at the moment, and he was going to do his fucking best to make sure she stayed with him as long as possible._

"_Yeah, Liv, it's me, I'm here"_

_His voice was hitching despite his best efforts to keep it even; not just to keep his emotions in check, but so that Olivia would stay calm as well. At the moment he didn't care one iota that he was in a room surrounded by his peers; including his Captain. _

_For the first time in a long time, the focus of his attention wasn't on himself and how the world somehow had it in for him._

_It wasn't on how he was going to survive playing father and husband at an age when retirement was a viable option._

_It wasn't how he needed to appease his hormonal wife because their relationship was on a knife's edge._

_It wasn't on how his partner of seven years couldn't understand that he was distancing himself from her because it was in their best interest, because it was best for their partnership._

_It wasn't on how he was bitter and angry at how his partner up and left him without so much as a goodbye._

_His focus was now on the fact that his abducted partner had without question, put all her faith and belief in his hands. So he had to stay calm for her._

_He had to be the person that she had always believed that he was when she showed up for work every morning like clockwork and sat across from him. _

"_El, I'm sorry"_

_He didn't notice that he was crying until the tears completely blurred his vision, a lone one escaping and falling to the stained desk-top. His hand reached for the phone-set as though he could reach out and physically touch the side of her face._

"_No, Liv, I'm sorry"_

_He could hear her breath catch slightly as she inhaled, and his fingers inched further towards the speaker. Morales was saying something next to him, but all he could hear was a rushing sound. And Olivia. _

_Always Olivia._

"_You stay strong for me Olivia, okay? I need you to stay strong for me, because I can't do this alone"_

_He felt the walls that he had so carefully build around his mind and heart crumble as he listened to Olivia's ragged breathing on the other side of the line filter through to his ears._

"_El, I don't know where I am, but it's dark…"_

_She was cut off mid-sentence as the phone was wrestled from her, "now that's enough Detective. We don't want to go and give away all my secrets now, do we?"_

"_Ashton, you bastard, put her back on!"_

_Elliot ignored Fin's attempt to quiet him, shrugging out of his touch._

"_Now, now Detective Stabler, we're doing this my way ok?"_

_Elliot remained silent, stewing in the contempt that he had for this guy; for the nerve that he was displaying, and the ill-placed belief that he would somehow get away with this._

"_I'll call again tomorrow morning. In the meantime, figure out how much you're willing to risk for Detective Benson and then double it. Because I want to make you pay for what you've done to me Detective Stabler. You can't afford any more mistakes; I look forward to talking to you tomorrow"_

_Elliot sat there long after the dial-tone had worn out, replaced with an automated message about re-dialling the number and trying again._

_Sitting there, staring at the spot on the desk where his tears had fallen, he realised, he was willing to risk everything._

Elliot shook his head, regaining his composure as best he could before he made his way back into the squad-room. Lake was waiting for him, his haunch balanced on the edge of Elliot's desk.

"What've you got?"

Lake's eyes reflected concern, but he wisely put away any questions he wanted answered, instead holding out a sheet of paper, "Morales says the phone used wasn't a landline, and that the cell-phone used had some sort of in-built scrambler that had it jumping from cell-tower to cell-tower"

Elliot took the piece of paper, scratching his chin so that Lake wouldn't notice his shaking hands, "So we're screwed?"

Lake shook his head in the negative, "not entirely. Morales was able to narrow down the possible locations using some new computer program. They're definitely still in Manhattan, or, at least they were when they made the call. We'll have to wait for his call today to know if they're moving around or not"

Elliot nodded, "thanks"

Lake stood straight, pushing his hands into his pockets, "Look, I know I've only been here a short time, but if you ever needed someone to talk to…"

"Yeah," Elliot interrupted Lake, "thanks"

Lake nodded, standing beside Elliot awkwardly before realising that he was no longer engaged in the conversation and moving back quickly to his own desk.

Elliot closed his eyes, rubbing them with his finger-tips, as he tried to get various images of Olivia in distress out of his mind. He was startled out of his reverie by his desk-phone ringing shrilly at his left. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he believed that it could be Olivia ringing him, telling him that she was running late because traffic was a bitch.

Telling him that she'd accidentally slept through her alarm and to cover her arse for ten minutes.

Telling him that she was okay and that she'd be there soon.

"Stabler"

"Elliot?"

Kathy

"Kath, now's not a good time"

He heard Kathy sigh on the other side of the line, "it never is, is it Elliot?"

Elliot moved his neck from side to side in the hope of working out the kinks, "Kathy, some bastard has Olivia and we're all working around the clock to get her back, so I may not be home tonight"

Elliot waited for the impatient sigh, but it never came, instead, "okay Elliot. You do what you need to. The twins say hi. I love you"

Elliot's heart twisted in his chest, and he found himself repeating her terms of endearment out of routine rather than desire.

Hanging up the phone, his eyes roved over the various images of his family on his desk. Usually, they would make him smile and swell with pride.

But today it was different.

When Gitano had the gun to his head in that warehouse, and he was waiting for death to come to him, he expected to see his life run before his eyes. Just like everybody said.

He'd heard that when you were facing almost certain death, the most important elements of your life are meant to rush by in a whir of memories. He thought he'd see his childhood, his army days, his marriage, his children, even his work; those images he had on his desk-top.

But in that dingy warehouse that smelt of stale cigarette smoke, with the smoking muzzle of a gun sitting against his right temple; as death stared at him square in the face.

All he could see was Olivia.


	3. Smell

**Disclaimer: Is Elliot a man-whore? Yes? Well, they're not mine. If he was man-whore with Olivia, it'd be a little difference.**

**Author's note: Loving the reviews, keep em up!**

**Fanfic recommendations: **

**Early Morning Introspection by NettieC**

**Something More by MariposaAngel18**

**A Ventral Tegmental Crisis by S.carlett V.on U.ttenburg**

**Read and Review those too, because not enough people have done that.**

**This is for Scarlett, who I sometimes believe is my sixth sense.**

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"The sense of smell can be extraordinarily evocative, bringing back pictures as sharp as photographs of scenes that had left the conscious mind"

– Anonymous

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**Thursday, October 14****th**

Munch and Fin re-entered the precinct about an hour after Elliot's phone call with Kathy. In the meantime he had taken the opportunity to assist Lake and Morales in narrowing the boundaries on Olivia's possible locations. As the perimeters closed in on more specific areas, he began to feel a second wind that he associated with that fact that he was going to hear Olivia's voice very soon. He needed that assurance that she was still alive.

There was a part of him that knew intrinsically that she was, but he realised that more than anything he wanted to hear her voice.

Fin had returned to his desk without looking at Elliot, but Munch walked straight past his desk, dragging his chair across the room to sit at Elliot's right. For a long moment, Elliot remained silent, staring at his blank computer screen. Munch didn't push him, and he was grateful for that. He simply sat next to him in a silent solidarity.

He took in a deep breath, his eyes firmly trained on the nothingness in front of him, "the last thing I said to her was that she was a coward"

Munch's finger moved to the dent on Elliot's desk where he had dropped his coffee mug Wednesday afternoon after Fin had alerted them that Ashton was on the phone. His desk still smelt like coffee. Normally it would help in sedating him, in calming his nerves; but today its scent served as a reminder that in all his years of living, his kids and Olivia were the only ones who could expose his weaknesses.

"Elliot, we'll get this guy," he turned his head in Munch's direction, watching himself in the reflection of Munch's glasses, "you remember what you told Olivia yesterday?"

Elliot nodded, "yeah, I told her to be strong"

_To be strong for him._

He looked at his palm that was resting on the hard wood of his desktop and was reminded again of the slats supporting the mattress up in the cribs. He needed to get himself under control and start acting like a partner. Like the partner that had been missing over the past two years of them working together.

"We'll get her Elliot," he felt the definitiveness in Munch's voice wash over him and he realised that he wasn't in this alone, that Olivia wasn't in this alone.

Elliot nodded again, "what'd you and Fin get?"

Fin, who had been watching the exchange cautiously, rose from his seat, file in hand, "we interviewed Ashton's ex-girlfriend, a couple of his old bosses, his neighbours and reviewed some of the rape cases against him."

Elliot's eyebrows rose. He was impressed with the amount of ground they had covered in the short amount of time, "and? Anything that'll help us?"

Fin shrugged, "Ashton's the sort of guy who kept pretty much to himself. Girlfriend said that when he wanted to be he was a good guy. Neighbours could barely describe him, and the rape cases didn't shed too much light on where their possible locations could be"

Elliot nodded, but he felt Fin was holding back. He remained silent though, instead choosing to rise from his seat to drag the incident board into the middle of the room, "ok, so how many cases are there against him?"

"In New York?"

Elliot turned to Fin, scratching his chin, "There are more?"

Instead of answering, Fin silently began to tack up pictures of various women onto the board. He lost count after ten, and he felt his hope that Olivia would get out of this unscathed was pricked with each photo that Fin pinned up on the board. In the end, there were 15 traumatised faces staring back, and Elliot felt physically deflated. Now he realised why Fin was so silent and reluctant to look at him in the eyes when he first entered the office. Ashton was more dangerous than they had initially thought.

After he finished, Fin turned to face Elliot, "there are four women we know of in New York. The rest are from other states scattered across America"

Elliot shook his head, disbelieving, "how do we know that they're his victims?"

Fin opened the file in his hands again, "mostly DNA, a couple picked him out of a line-up. Ashton is Robert's real name, but when he was away on business he would use various aliases. That's why it's taken so long to find this guy and link him to these women"

Munch rose off the chair, moving to his partner's side, "this is much bigger now than we thought," his eyes lifted to Elliot's, "Cragen says the Feds are getting involved"

Elliot tried his best to remain impassive, "well that's understandable, this is across multiple state lines. They need to be involved"

Munch and Fin exchanged quick glances, "you sure you're ok with this?"

Elliot's heart had begun to race again, "why wouldn't I be? This is about getting Olivia back safely, that's all"

He met Fin's hardened gaze with his own, "ok"

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Before he started at the academy, and way before he was introduced into early parenthood, Elliot would spend his summers with his two brothers at his best friend's house at Rockaway Beach. Three weeks of each summer, they would pack away their problems at home and stay at a place where all they had to worry about was what to eat for dinner every night.

He distinctly remembered the last time he had ever stayed at the beach-house. It had been the year that he had met Kathy, and two months before he would be unexpectedly dropped into the role of father and husband.

That week had seen the days filled with torrential rain and gusting winds. He had taken the time to eagerly plan his future; perhaps take a trip with his brothers, attend the police academy, get married, have kids and eventually retire. Had he known that in two months time, his plans would be irrevocably changed, he would've taken the time to appreciate his last night more.

Sitting on the patio, the sun had made a brief appearance; the sunset had been extremely beautiful. But more than anything, he remembered breathing in the smell of the cool dusk air; the beach and rain. An overwhelmingly relaxing combination.

In two months, he would forever associate the smell of the beach and rain as that of a time when his life was so much simpler.

A smell that evoked in him a peace that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

In complete contrast however, he couldn't seem to escape the pressing feeling in his chest as he waited in his Captain's office for the presence of Dean Porter. Upon making connections across state lines with Ashton, the Feds invariably had their interest piqued - and their resident sex crimes representative had been called in.

Elliot kept his gaze straight ahead, boring a hole through Cragen's empty chair. The pressing feeling was less about the lack of composure he had been showing for the past two days, but more about the impending appearance of the Fed's Sex Crimes glamour-boy. Porter had never done anything to directly affect him, but he felt that this guy had an interest in Olivia that stemmed far beyond the job.

"Jerk," he huffed, folding his arms.

"I'm sorry?"

Elliot's head whipped to his right, as Porter and his Captain made their way into the office. He stood abruptly, his chair skidding backwards. Cragen and Porter remained standing as Elliot moved awkwardly towards them.

"Agent Porter," he extended his hand.

"Detective Stabler," he gripped his hand in a solid shake, and Elliot had to mentally remove the images he had of these hands on Olivia's body.

Porter reeked of expensive cologne, and Elliot's stomach contracted slightly, but he put his feelings aside, "What exactly are the Feds going to be doing?"

The corner of Porter's mouth lifted in a small smile, "we're not here to get in the way, Detective Stabler. We're here to help get Olivia back as safely and quickly as possible"

"It's Detective Benson"

Porter and Cragen froze, and they exchanged a quick glance. But Elliot was beyond caring. This prick was not going to get in the way and jeopardise getting Olivia back and safe.

_Back to him._

Porter cleared his throat, "we're here to inject some more people-power into the investigation, some new technology from our labs, our best hostage negotiators. Olivia made quite an impression with the Bureau during her time with us"

Elliot could feel his eyes blazing; Porter was challenging him, daring him to do something to get him thrown off the investigation. To make one mistake that would have him handing over his badge and gun at the end of the day.

But he wasn't going to give this smug bastard the satisfaction, "She's a great cop," Elliot shifted his stare from Porter to Cragen, "he'll call soon"

Cragen nodded, visibly grateful that Elliot didn't further broach the subject, "we've got Morales and a Fed tech at your desk, waiting to trace the call. See if they're still in Manhattan"

Porter nodded, "I'll go help out"

Elliot moved to follow him out the door, but was stopped by a hand on his arm, "I want a word Detective"

As the door snapped closed, Elliot felt the bravado he had put on when Porter was in the office disappear. It was replaced now with a desperation to hear Olivia's voice.

"Agent Porter is here to help us Elliot," he turned to face Cragen.

The look Cragen was giving him was one that allowed no room for argument. Elliot realised that he was being selfish; Olivia meant just as much to the others in the squad as she did to him. If he kept walking around like he was the only one who cared, it would only be of detriment to Olivia.

"I know Cap"

They remained silent, the shadows filtering through the window playing across their faces and the objects in the room. His eyes fell on the photo that Cragen had on his desk with the three of them. It had been taken at the retirement of a fellow Captain two months ago. Usually, he and Olivia both refrained from anything that included a camera; a mutual distaste that had them scurrying when someone popped up wanting a photo. On this occasion however, their Captain had persuaded them to stay, and in a moment captured on film, the three of them looked truly happy. Had the photo been taken a scant moment before, it would have portrayed something very different.

_I hate photos Elliot_

_I know, Liv, so do I_

_How's my hair?_

_Fine, how's my suit_

_Blue_

_Very funny, just smile_

_I will if you do, partner_

He still vaguely remembered the intoxicating perfume Olivia had been wearing.

The smell of her hair and the way it was swept into an elegant bun at the base of her head, her long neck tempting him to sink his teeth into it.

The way her midnight blue cocktail dress clung provocatively to her curves, falling just above her knees; tempting him to run his hands along her legs until she cried out for him.

The way she held onto him a little bit longer than necessary after the photo was taken, prolonging the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, it's heat sinking through the thin material of her dress.

When he got home that night, he realised that his shirt still smelled of her perfume; it's invigorating aroma forcing him to guiltily shove it into the bottom of the laundry hamper so that Kathy wouldn't get it right away.

Now, he wished more than anything he still had that shirt in his possession, because each second that went by, he felt her scent begin to fade away.

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"It's Olivia!"

Elliot's heart-rate accelerated considerably as he waited for Morales give his okay to pick up the phone. After what seemed like an eternity, Morales nodded, and Fin transferred the call to Elliot's phone. He pressed the speaker button and inhaled deeply; the smell of coffee inadvertently filling his lungs.

"Olivia?"

Silence filled the squad-room, even the other phones of the office seemed to have realised the importance behind the call and remained quiet. Porter sat at Elliot's left, frowning at the lack of response. He opened his mouth to say something, but Elliot lifted his hand, abruptly shutting him up.

"El?"

It was so quiet, that he could tell Porter didn't hear it. But he felt like Olivia had just shouted his name at him, and he felt it move through his veins like a shot of adrenaline. He unconsciously moved towards the phone, pulling the handset closer to him.

"Yeah, Liv, it's me"

"Oh, El, it's so cold"

No matter what he said to himself before he took the call, no matter how much he wanted to hear her voice; nothing prepared him for the way his heart broke at how she sounded.

"I know Liv, but we're doing everything we can to get you back ok. Remember what I told you yesterday?"

"Yeah"

Elliot stopped breathing, he felt like the sound of it was way too loud, and getting in the way of Olivia's voice

"You told me to be strong for you, El"

His heart paused mid-beat. For him. Not just to be strong. But to be strong for him.

"That's right, Liv. And you know what? The Feds are helping us out to. Turns out you made quite an impression"

Her laughter was weak and abrupt, but he would take it over anything. Even a day spent back at that beach-house where everything was so much less complicated.

"You're a good cop El"

"Now's not the time to build my ego Liv, I need you to tell me where you are ok?"

Silence. Too much silence. He inhaled again, the coffee beginning to give him a buzz.

"I don't know exactly, but it's stuffy and dark. Smells like the back of Fin and Munch's sedan…"

Elliot couldn't help the laughter that escaped his throat, but it was abruptly cut off by a decidedly male voice, "Now, now Detective. What did I say about giving away my secrets?"

Ashton.

When he got his hands on Ashton's neck, he was going to squeeze the life out of him, inch by agonizing inch; until Ashton realised how Elliot was feeling each second that ticked by without Olivia at his side.

"Ashton, what do you want?"

Ashton's laugh filled the room, and it had the opposite affect on him. This time, it made his skin crawl and his teeth grit.

"Did you work out how much you're willing to risk for Detective Benson?"

He wanted to tell him he was willing to risk everything; that he would give his badge and his gun and his life for her to come back safely. But if Ashton felt he had Elliot where he wanted him, he would take absolute advantage.

"What do you want Ashton?"

"For you to stop talking to me like I'm a ten year-old child Detective Stabler!"

The anger in his voice was palpable, and the images of the fifteen women he had abused ran through his mind.

"Look, what do you want me to do for you Ashton?"

"That's better Detective," he had calmed considerably, "and because Detective Benson has been so willing and pliant, I'm offering to give you an actual chance of saving her life"

Elliot head began to spin at Ashton's words. What did he mean by pliant and willing?

"What do you need?"

Porter had noticed Elliot's distraction, and picked up the slack.

"There's a warehouse off Lexington Ave. Big, blue and deserted. I'll be there tomorrow morning at 11:30 with Detective Benson. Detective Stabler, you are to come alone. If I get any sort of wind that there is even one cop in the area, Detective Benson will get a bullet between those beautiful brown eyes of hers, and don't think I won't do it"

"Ok"

He spoke before he realised the words had come out of his mouth, but at this stage he would've agreed to anything.

"See you tomorrow morning Detective. And remember, come alone, or your partner will be no more"

The harsh sound of the dial-tone pierced the air; but Elliot felt a sense of determination he hadn't experienced since he began at the academy.

Morales, the federal agent and Porter were speaking quickly at the computer, typing in various commands. But Elliot's mind was elsewhere.

Tomorrow he had the chance to get Olivia back from this crazed lunatic.

Tomorrow, he had the chance to get his partner back.

To be able to sit next to her in the sedan on a stake-out, indulging in calorific hot-dogs whose smell would remain in the car-seats long after they'd been consumed.

To wake her up in the crib and realise when he took his turn to sleep, that the scent of her shampoo was still embedded in the material.

To catch the smell of sweat and tears she thought nobody saw her cry after a long work-out in the gym as a way of exorcising the demons of her day.

Sitting at his desk, the coffee still lingering in the air, he realised that the beach and the cool dusk air no longer represented simplicity and happiness anymore.

Now, as he recounted the retirement party all those months ago; as he inhaled the aroma that was purely Olivia, he realised she was his everything.

Whether it was when they sat next to each other, picking food off each other's plate after ordering out from their favourite Chinese restaurant.

Or if it was when they would work an interrogation in tandem and smell the fear on their suspect because they were so good at what they were doing.

Or perhaps it was because she was his partner, and it was as simple as that.


	4. Taste

**Disclaimer: No. Not mine. Am I on a writer's strike?**

**Author's note: This is going to be extremely less controversial. Can I prefix this by saying that all the reviews I got last chapter (whether in reference to what I said or the story) were amazingly passionate, and I'm sorry it had to be passion over an author's note rather than the author's writing. Let's put it into what we think of the story this time ok? It's so fabulous that I have such impassioned readers, so very awesome. But I also have to say that I want you to go out and review other people's stories. Not just mine. Please. There are so many great authors out there who are under-appreciated. NO, NOT ME! Lol.**

**Thank you for all the reviews all the same, and can I say that I would never **_**not**_** post a chapter. I fulfil my responsibilities as a writer (despite what I may say), so I just want you guys to extend the same courtesy as readers. If you read it, please review it. Two seconds people, that's all it takes. I know it for a fact, cause I review all the time.**

Story recommendations:

Scarletina by JenniDinoRobot

Let Me Let Go by MaryWhite

Undercover Days by Jaed621

Burning Room by AllieM

**Two more chapters after this my darlings, so hang in there. And I hope you're not too angry by the ending of this chapter! Forgive me?**

_**To Ash for your amazing reviews; you never fail to make me smile.**_

_**To Scar for simply being amazing.**_

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"Tastes are made, not born"

– Mark Twain.

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**Friday, October 15****th**

When he and Kathy first married, he would always look forward to waking up next to her in the morning. To seeing her eyes adjust to the light that was coming through their bay window, the warmth of her body at his side and the way they would stay under the covers as long as possible before they'd have to inevitably get up to face the world.

Even if they were on opposite sides of the bed after a disagreement, he would wake to find that their bodies had somehow gravitated towards the other during the night. They would laugh about it in the morning as Kathy made him his breakfast, the wonderful aroma of bacon and eggs making his stomach growl appreciatively.

Somewhere along the line, things had changed.

He found himself lying awake during the night and rising earlier than usual. He found more comfort in the solitariness of the kitchen where he would make himself something to eat to settle the uneasiness in his stomach, rather than watching his wife working away at the stove. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten anything Kathy had made for him.

Before the separation, when he got home from cases that went into the early hours of the morning, Kathy would leave a plate of food for him in the oven that he would eat before heading to bed for a few hours of badly needed sleep. Now, when he entered the darkened foyer of their house, the silence enveloping him, he could barely smell the dinner that had been consumed only hours before.

Since the separation, he'd forgotten the taste of Kathy's famous meatloaf that she proudly declared a family tradition.

He'd forgotten the taste of a late night beer with her after particularly hard cases, as she sipped at a glass of wine thoughtfully.

He'd forgotten the taste of her lips against his, as their passion for each other overtook all else.

But as he forgot these, he found that his palate now desired a decidedly more forbidden flavour.

He now stayed at the precinct later, to eat take-out with his partner as they soaked in the companionable silence.

He found his beer ran down his throat so much smoother when he was sharing it with Olivia, as they laughed over one of Munch's conspiracy theories or Fin's quips.

He found that instead of missing the affections of his wife, his tastebuds craved a new flavour.

Olivia.

"Elliot?"

He shook his head of the mental images of his partner, as Kathy waddled her way into the kitchen. He shifted in his seat guiltily, almost like she'd be able to see and hear what he was thinking.

To hide his nervousness, he picked up a tomato slice on the edge of his plate, chewing it without thinking, "what are you doing up?"

Kathy rested her hands on the granite counter, "I could ask you the same thing"

Elliot laid his forearms in front of him, leaning forward, "I couldn't sleep"

Kathy nodded, moving to the fridge to look through its contents, "you want anything?"

"No, I've eaten," he replied, watching the back of his wife as she began to pull out some leftovers, the containers filling the space between he and Kathy.

Space that had been there for longer than they were both willing to admit.

Space that was full of unfinished discussions, misunderstandings and too many late nights away from each other.

She gave him space that she thought he needed when the job was too much. He had done the same when she thought it was what they needed during the separation.

In the end, they had stopped communicating and the space had become too much to recoup.

His mother would shake her head and claim they were too young, her mother would say that they rushed into it. But both he and Kathy knew that deep down, they had simply grown apart.

Elliot looked up as Kathy prepared herself a midnight snack, her hands expertly wrapping and un-wrapping various condiments. Normally, he would find comfort in the familiarity of her actions. But, as his heart caught in his chest, he realised that this was no longer familiar to him, and in effect, it wasn't a comfort.

His stomach was tying his insides into knots that boy-scouts would be proud of, and he was very close to losing the minimal amount of sustenance he had finally been able to consume.

Before his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing, Kathy had fixed him with a gaze that indicated she had something important she had to tell him, and that arguing was not an option.

"What is it?"

"I know that this is probably the last thing you want to talk about with this whole situation involving Olivia…"

"This has nothing to do with Olivia."

He didn't know why he was so defensive, or why he felt the need to stop talking about Olivia like she was there with them, but he could tell from the look in Kathy's eyes that he'd taken her by surprise with his tone.

"You can't sit there and tell me that this doesn't involve her at least a little bit, Elliot. At least give me credit and don't treat me like I'm an idiot."

He could see her eyes searching his, trying to find an answer to a question he didn't have. That he hadn't had for a very long time.

"Ok," he conceded, his stomach rumbling lightly, "what do you want to talk about?"

She didn't answer him at first, choosing instead to take a bite out of her sandwich. The low rumbling in his stomach began to cripple his mid-section.

"What are we doing here Elliot?" as she swiped at the side of her mouth where some mustard had taken up residence; he could see her hands were shaking slightly.

"We're eating."

Humour was his way of deflecting personal issues, and Kathy knew it. But something about the way that her hands were shaking was throwing him off. In the past, when they had their disagreements, she would be steady and assured in what she was telling him.

"I'm serious El."

He sighed, pushing his plate away from him, "I know. I'm sorry"

"We sleep in the same bed, we share the same house. But I feel like I don't know you anymore"

He used his fingers to press into his eyelids, hoping to relieve some of the tension behind his eyes, "I work long hours, I need to make money for us"

He looked up to see Kathy shaking her head, "maybe that used to be a viable excuse, but I don't believe it anymore. A decade ago, you'd come home from days just as long as the ones you have now, but you would always have time for me. Now, even when you're home, you're not. It's not fair to me Elliot"

His stomach had begun to churn furiously at her honesty, "I know Kathy. You know you guys mean the world to me right?"

Kathy reached across to lay her hand on his forearm, "You've always loved us Elliot, I've never doubted that. But I don't know if you're still in love with me. And, I have to admit, I don't know if I'm in love with you anymore," she paused, pushing her hair behind her ears with a shaking hand, "at first, I thought that we could make it work if it seemed like we were starting over again. But I don't know anymore"

Elliot could tell that she had thought this through; that she probably stayed awake during the night like him, thinking about all the things that needed to be resolved. He couldn't help but wonder that if they had turned to each other like their bodies had done automatically in the beginning; would they be having this discussion.

"The kids know more about what's happening than we do. I was doing the laundry a few months back and Lizzie told me that she thought you seemed happier when you were in your own apartment," she swiped at a tear with the back of her hand, "do you know what that does to me?"

Elliot shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the onset of his own tears, "I'm sorry Kathy, I…"

"I met somebody"

She cut him off abruptly, and his eyes whipped up to hers so quickly, they almost completed a revolution in his skull. Honestly, he shouldn't be surprised; but he wasn't sure that in his state that he could take it at the moment.

He could taste the bile in the back of his throat, "you start by saying that this is because of Olivia and then this…this…I don't even know how to take this Kathy"

She shook her head, "For the past five years I've been married to an ideal, Elliot. Of who we used to be, of who I hoped we could become again."

"I never stopped loving you," his voice caught in his throat as a sob threatened to break from his chest.

"I know. I told you, I've never questioned that. But I know, and the kids know, that whether you acted on it or not, there's always been somebody else for you too. And I can't pretend to ignore it anymore"

He wanted to shake his head and plead with her. Tell her that she was wrong and that he loved her, because she was his wife. Tell her that he only loved Olivia as a friend, as a colleague.

As a partner.

_But he'd be lying._

If Kathy and his kids could see it before he was willing to admit it, then all he'd be doing would be lying to himself and Olivia.

"You have no idea how hard it is for me to tell you to let Olivia know that you love her, Elliot. I'm your wife for God's sake," she let out a puff of air as she laughed through her tears, "Jesus, we're like some bad Jerry Springer episode here."

He laughed despite himself. The overall situation wasn't completely lost on him either. His wife was telling him to tell his partner how he truly felt, after telling him that she'd met somebody she could potentially love as well.

This was so screwed up.

They sat in silence for a beat, before he asked the only question he didn't really want the answer to, "who did you meet?"

Kathy shrugged, a tear escaping and falling down her cheek, "His name's Henry. His son goes to the twin's school. He's a single dad. The kids love him, he loves the kids, and he has time for me Elliot"

Elliot nodded, a buzzing sound in his head making him dizzy, "how long?"

"Eleven months," he felt more than saw Kathy move around the counter to stand in front of him, "I'm sorry Elliot. But I could only wait so long for you."

Her hands moved to the side of his head, lifting it to look at her in the eyes.

Eyes that used to hold all the innocence of youth. Of first-time parenthood. Of fidelity and trust.

Eyes that now held his past.

Kathy rested her forehead against his own, tears running furiously down her cheeks, "the baby may not be yours Elliot, and you have no idea how much guilt I have in me at the moment, how sorry I am to have put you through all this."

Elliot moved his hands to rest on Kathy's, trying to transfer some comfort through his touch. He was as guilty as she was; only moments before he had been thinking of his partner in rather indecent sorts of ways.

"I'm sorry too Kathy, I'm as much to blame for this," his voice kept hitching in his throat, and if Kathy wasn't supporting his head, he would have keeled over at her initial confession.

Their silent sobs filled a kitchen full of so many past memories and promises.

Promises of a happy family and a bright future that he had dreamt of all those years back.

But here, in the surrounding darkness, they were finally letting each other go.

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Despite their heavy early morning revelations, Elliot felt a part of him was now lighter; like a load had been lifted from his subconscious. He was now free to put his undivided attention into meeting with Ashton at the warehouse that morning.

Numerous scenarios had run through his mind, most of which ended with the bloody corpse of Robert Ashton sitting at his feet.

He listened half-heartedly to what Porter was telling the group converged at the precinct; a mixture of Feds and fellow cops. Munch sat to his left, picking at a jam-filled donut that Cragen had brought in the hopes that his officers would eat something.

His stomach was still trying to digest the tomato slices he had eaten that morning; along with the words that he and Kathy had exchanged. They had figured out in ten minutes, something that had been surrounding them unresolved for over four years. It still hurt that Kathy had moved on so quickly, but the fact that he, as a Detective, hadn't even suspected an affair made him feel even more hollow.

And guilty.

He felt guilt that he hadn't paid enough attention to his own wife, and that he let it get to the stage where she had to seek affection from somebody else.

And guilt that his wife was more willing to admit he was in love with another woman than he was.

Love. With Olivia. Shit.

"Ok, we're going to wire you Elliot, and there'll be undercover cops surrounding the building," he found his attention drawn back to the conversation, where Cragen had now taken charge.

After Ashton's last call, they had contacted the nearest precinct for information on the warehouse that he had described. It did, in fact, exist, but it was in a particularly isolated part of the city.

He expected nothing less.

As he watched Cragen addressing a group of Federal Agents in front of the incident board, he noticed in his peripheral vision that Porter was making his way towards him. He felt the muscle in his jaw work as he tried his best to not clock him as soon as he got to him.

"Detective Stabler? Can I have a word?"

There were a number of things he had to say in response, but Porter had on that damn cologne again and he felt his eyes begin to water from its intensity. He gave a sideways glance to Munch sitting to his left, who in turn nodded his head almost imperceptibly.

He rose from his perch on his desk and followed Porter down the busy corridor to an empty interrogation room. It wasn't the same interrogation room where they had interviewed Ashton, but it was the one where he and Olivia had hidden from Cragen after they had stolen and hidden his jar of liquorice a few months back.

_How long do you think we're going to have to stay in here?_

_Until Cragen retires probably_

_I could just push you out the door and let you face the wrath alone_

_You wouldn't do that to me Liv_

_What makes you so certain?_

_Cause you love me_

Her laughter had been so wonderfully liberating that he wanted to bottle it up so he could use it whenever he was feeling down. She'd had a piece of the red liquorice hanging out of her mouth as her laughter filled the room, and despite the fact he hated the stuff, he found himself indulging in a couple of pieces.

The musky taste never failed to make his stomach turn in the past, but this time, as he and Olivia stifled their laughter so they could hear their Captain on one of his famous tirades, he felt he had never tasted anything sweeter.

Cragen had found them not long after, and issued his usual ass-chewing. But it had been worth it, because for the first time in a long time, they had been in something together.

Now, he was alone with Agent Perfect who was fixing him with a confused gaze as he smiled at the memory Porter obviously couldn't see. And he was grateful for that; he wanted to keep this piece of Olivia to himself.

He was a greedy bastard after all.

He watched carefully as Porter moved around him, settling himself against the table in the centre of the room, "How are you feeling?"

Elliot shrugged, folding his arms defensively, "I'm as fine as I'll be."

Porter nodded, his expression indicating he couldn't care less if Elliot was feeling suicidal or homicidal.

"What's this about Porter?"

Porter's Adam's apple bounced up and down as he swallowed, "Olivia"

Elliot frowned, his defences continuing to rise, "what about Detective Benson?"

Porter shook his head smirking, "fine, if Detective Benson makes you feel more comfortable, I'll call her that. But it doesn't change how you feel about each other and how that may affect the situation this morning."

First his ex-wife and now Olivia's ex-boss. Who didn't know about their situation?

"What are you talking about Porter?"

He could tell from the look in Porter's eyes that he wasn't going to believe the bullshit Elliot was giving him.

"I was talking to your Captain yesterday Detective, about a situation two years ago that may jeopardise this case…"

"You can't take me off this case now, Porter," he cut Porter off abruptly, and took a small amount of joy out of how intimidated he seemed in his presence.

Dean shook his head, "Will you listen to me Elliot? Can you please let me explain before you jump down my throat? I'm not the bad guy here," he paused waiting for Elliot to deflate.

Elliot kept his arms folded, but he relaxed his stance somewhat, "what is it?"

Porter's eyes searched Elliot's, visibly wondering whether to tell him directly or to do it softly.

"I understand that two years ago there was a situation with Victor Gitano."

So, directly it was.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. And within the space of seconds, his mind filled with images of Olivia lying on the floor of the bus terminal with a cut to her throat, blood staining her fingers. Then it flashed to the dingy warehouse, gun to his head as Olivia told him that she was sorry she couldn't put the job before them.

And then he saw Olivia and himself in that hospital corridor, the after-affects of the Gitano case forcing them to evaluate their partnership.

_If that sniper hadn't beaten you to it; I know you would have taken that shot, Olivia.  
_

_No, I wouldn't have. Did you really expect me to? Did you really expect me to cause your death? What about your kids?  
_

_I don't know. I just couldn't get that boy out of my head.  
_

_What about me?  
_

_Look, we both chose each other over the job. We can never let that happen again. Otherwise, we can't be partners.  
_

_I can't believe you're saying that.  
_

_Look, you and this job are about the only things that I've got anymore. I don't want to wreck that. I couldn't take it._

Now he was facing a similar situation, and both Porter and Cragen were worried about whether or not their feelings would get in the way again.

"I know how to do my job," he tried to keep the venom out of his voice, and was taken aback by how jaded he sounded.

Porter seemed to realise that he had struck one of his nerves, "I never said that Elliot. But you know as well as I do that this job is as much about emotional stability as it is about physical ability. We know you're physically capable, but your Captain and my superiors need to know that you're in the right frame of mind to do this properly."

"Are you questioning my mental stability?"

Porter raised an eyebrow, "I'm not. But your Captain is."

Elliot felt like he'd been kicked in the guts. He knew that not much got past Cragen, but he thought he held him in high enough regard to know he could do his job properly. Cragen obviously knew there was more to his and Olivia's relationship than they had been willing to admit. He couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his splitting of him and Olivia between Fin and Lake than just their disagreements.

Maybe, he knew all along that there was more between them and he was separating them so they'd get used to it for the future.

"We know the situation is slightly different, Detective Benson is the only victim at this point," he paused, standing up to pace the room, "but when you get into that warehouse today, you're in as much danger. We need to know you won't do anything completely stupid to get Detective Benson back."

Elliot frowned, "stupid?"

Porter smiled despite himself, "yeah. No self-sacrifice or hero-playing. We need to get Detective Benson and yourself out as safely as possible. And for that, we need you as level headed as possible. Ashton obviously knows that Detective Benson means a lot to you, but we don't think he knows the…err…extent of those feelings. We'd like to keep that to ourselves for now."

Elliot shifted uncomfortably; he couldn't believe he was talking about this with Porter of all people.

"So what am I doing exactly?"

Porter relaxed at Elliot's conciliatory tone, "you'll be wired. You already know that. We'll have some undercover feds ghosting you as homeless people directly outside the warehouse. We've had the bomb-squad and TARU inside the warehouse last night and there aren't any cameras or explosives as far as we know. There's a team outside relaying movement and information back to us."

Elliot nodded, the magnitude of the situation sitting heavily inside of him, "and where will you guys be?"

"We'll be in a van around the corner, a bus not much further back. You won't be alone Elliot."

Elliot nodded again, a leaden feeling beginning to infiltrate his neck and head. They stood together silently, a knock at the door startling the both of them.

Porter smirked at their reactions, "yeah."

Munch's head poked through the door, "that was the unit outside the warehouse."

Elliot's eyes shot up to meet Munch's, "Ashton just arrived with Olivia."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

A car-ride that would normally take all of five minutes seemed as though it was taking five hours. He couldn't find a comfortable way to sit, and continually shifted in his car-seat. Porter was sitting next to him, but was either undisturbed or he had the patience of a saint.

Or he realised that Elliot was using his energy to move around rather than to punch things and was grateful.

Elliot felt as though he was being eaten alive by his nerves, but a good-luck text message he found on his cell from Kathy and the kids had settled them somewhat. He was unbelievably glad that Olivia was still alive, but also a little worried that Ashton was so willing to be alone in a place where there was no escape from the authorities.

He turned to Porter who was watching the passing scenery impassively, "why do you think he's so willing to be in a situation like this?"

Porter turned to him, shrugging his shoulders, "I honestly don't know. But I don't like it. That's why we need you to be as careful as possible, and why we're taking every precaution we can think of."

Elliot nodded, turning back to his own window.

"You know she really loves you."

He froze, "what?"

Porter nodded, "she never told me directly, but you could tell that there was something there. And then I came to New York, and the past couple of months have just made it so much more obvious."

Elliot shook his head weakly, "I don't…I…"

Porter turned to look out the window, "its ok, you know. You don't have to lie to me, or to your Captain. I think he's a little smarter than you give him credit for," he smiled, scratching his nose, "It happens sometimes. Just take care of her ok? She's a good cop."

Elliot couldn't think of anything smart or blasé to say, so he just continued to move his head in an up and down motion in what he hoped appeared as a nod.

"I know she is," he found himself saying it more to himself than to anybody else.

The car pulled to a stop two blocks from the warehouse. He could see it in the distance. The Kevlar vest he had on began to suffocate him and he felt like tearing it off and jumping out of the car for some fresh air.

He took a deep breath, letting it out between his lips in a long stream of air.

His hand reached to open the door, "Thanks Dean."

Porter smiled, "just get yourself and Detective Benson back safely, then you can thank me."

Elliot shut the door behind him, dipping his head through the open window, "I will. And it's Olivia."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

He had never been particularly claustrophobic before, but entering a potentially dangerous situation was not the sort of thing he had ever done without a partner; and he felt the oppressive atmosphere of the empty warehouse press in on him.

His gun was trained firmly in front of him as he made his way through the wrought-iron door, his eyes trying to take in everything at the same time.

"Olivia!"

His voice came out stronger than he was feeling, but with each step the feeling began to return to his muscles, nerves replaced with a determination to kick Ashton's arse.

So far, the place was clear and Porter's voice in his ear was a reassurance rather than the pain he thought it would be.

"Elliot, Morales says that the heat sensors say there're two bodies, very much alive, in the back left room."

Elliot nodded to himself, his footsteps quicker, more assured.

The room Porter was talking about came into focus and his heart-beat accelerated. The door was closed and he tried to decide the best way to get into the room without getting his head blown off straight away.

"Can you tell if he's armed?"

Silence.

Then, "yeah, he's armed. Be careful."

He moved to the side of the door, his hand on the knob. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't locked. He took a deep breath, steadying his rhythm.

He threw the door open, keeping his back straight against the wall, gun to his side.

"Ashton, it's me. Alone."

"Elliot?"

Olivia. God, she sounded so weak.

"Yeah, Liv, it's me."

He tried not to dwell on the sound of Olivia's voice too much, but he let it wash over him like an elixir. He tried to see into the room, but the most the angle would allow was the view of a dirty couch and a grimy window.

"Detective Stabler. I'm not going to shoot you," he heard Ashton's disgusting laugh, "yet."

"How do I know you won't fire your gun as soon as I move into the doorway?"

He heard Ashton give a dramatic sigh, "Olivia, will you tell your partner that I am not holding my gun up?"

"Screw you."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. He was again reminded of that time in the interrogation room and the sweet taste of the candy they had eaten. He felt a steel resolve as he promised himself mentally that he and Olivia would do that at least once more before either of them died.

And that meant getting rid of Ashton, and getting the hell out of this hovel.

"Liv, is it safe?"

"Ashton, put the gun down, and Elliot will put his gun down ok?"

There was silence again, and he desperately wanted to see inside the room.

"Ok, Detective Stabler, put your weapon in the doorway where I can see it, and I'll put mine down. Deal?"

Elliot sighed, "deal."

"Ok, El. He's put the gun down."

Elliot moved his gun into the doorway in clear sight of the occupants of the room. He straightened, holding his arms above his head.

"Ok Ashton, I'm coming in."

He moved into the doorway slowly, and as much as he wanted to, he kept his eyes trained away from Olivia and on Ashton. His nerves were on edge and he was mentally calculating the amount of time it would take to bend, get his gun and fire. Ashton was in a better position, but if he jumped out the doorway, he could get away unscathed. But that still left Olivia behind and that wasn't an option.

"Detective Stabler. So nice of you to join us."

Ashton was standing with his arms folded, his stance very relaxed. In his peripheral vision he could see Olivia at his right, her arms bound tightly. She seemed fine on the surface, but then again, she was always stubborn when it came to how injured she really was.

"Why did you do it Ashton?"

The sneer Ashton had pulled his lips into was frightening, his teeth baring, "my life was perfect before you and your partner decided to intrude. Now, I have no job, no girlfriend, and no future that doesn't involve life imprisonment at the best. So, what better way to ease the pain then to transfer it somewhat onto those responsible?"

Elliot shook his head, "nobody is responsible for this but yourself Ashton."

Ashton's eyes flashed and for a second, Elliot thought he was going to reach for the gun, "No! You created this mess! So how do you feel Detective Stabler? Huh? Do you feel any pain? Don't lie to be Detective, because my trigger finger is feeling particularly active today."

Elliot dropped his arms to his sides, "what do you want me to say Ashton? That every moment since Wednesday has been like a knife to my gut? Fine. It has. You've made your point. And now what?"

Ashton curled his hands into fists, "that's not good enough Detective. You wouldn't have been so emotional and angry if it didn't hurt more than that. Stop lying."

Elliot's insides began to churn, "why is it important?"

Ashton looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes impatiently, "because I said so! Do you want me to shoot Olivia, Detective Stabler? Is that what you want? Cause if it is," he stopped, reaching his hand for his gun.

Elliot dropped, picking up his own. They stood there, guns pointing at the other's bodies as Olivia cowered to the side. He wanted desperately to tell her it was going to be ok, and to get out while she could, but he couldn't find his voice.

Ashton's frown increased, "My mother refuses to talk to me Detective Stabler. My father disowned me and my girlfriend left me. I wanted you to have a little taste of what it's like to have your heart torn out like mine."

"Why Olivia?"

His hands were steady, and his voice matched them. He wanted to know what was going on in this guy's head. Ashton's mouth was now in the shape of a smirk, his perfect teeth gritted together tightly.

"Because I had to get somebody that you loved just as much."

He thought maybe it would be best to go along with Ashton. He also thought it was ironic that this would be the situation he would finally be honest with his feelings. He didn't think he'd ever get over the irony of the situation.

"Well it worked Robert," he watched Ashton's stance loosen slightly, he was visibly taken by surprise, "it felt like my heart had been taken out while it was still beating. You took my other half Ashton, how did you think I would feel?"

He heard a sound from the general vicinity in which Olivia was situated but he had to ignore it, "You wanted to tear my world apart? You wanted to shake me up? Well, mission accomplished. It worked."

Ashton had gotten his grip back on the gun, "good. But it's still not half the pain that I have in me right now. I want you to suffer Detective Stabler."

Elliot shook his head, but his gun held firm, "you take the woman I love away from me and you don't think I've suffered enough? What do you want from me Ashton? You want me to apologise? I'm sorry ok? But there's nothing more I can give you."

There was. But he knew the idea would go against the promise he had made Porter and he risked Olivia never speaking to him again. But if she survived, it was a risk he was willing to take.

"Let her go Ashton, and you can have me."

A chorus of 'no's' echoed in his head, a group from his earpiece and one from Ashton's right.

"Elliot, what the hell do you think..."

He pulled the wire out before Cragen or Porter could berate him any further, all the while his gun pointed squarely at the chest of Robert Ashton. Ashton who was regarding his offer with a smile that served the further increase his unattractiveness. He wished that he could look at Olivia, to see something in her eyes to keep him going. But if he did, he was certain Ashton would take advantage.

"Just you and me, Robert. Man to man. What do you say?"

"Elliot, don't be an idiot. Please, don't do it."

She was pleading with him, her breath hitching with each word as she struggled to get the sentence out. If she kept it up, he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

"Shut up, Liv," he cringed at her sharp intake of breath, but she remained silent, "now. What do you say?"

He cocked his head in question, watching as a bead of sweat worked it's way down Ashton's long nose, falling off as it reached the end. He could practically hear the gears shifting in Ashton's head as he thought through Elliot's proposition.

Finally, "ok."

"No!" Olivia's strangled cry gripped fiercely at his insides, and it took all his strength not to look at her. To look at her and reassure her that it would be ok.

To tell her that he loved her and it would be over soon.

"Gun down Detective Stabler, at the same time, Detective Benson can leave the room and then it's every man for himself," Ashton was enjoying the situation far too much.

But he nodded anyway, "one, two, three."

They both lowered their guns, "Olivia, go."

"No. I'm not leaving you Elliot," usually, he admired her stubborn resistance, but at the moment, it wasn't what he needed right now.

"Olivia, stop arguing with me, and go."

"I'm your partner El, I can't do it," she had risen shakily to her legs, her arms still tightly at her sides.

"I know you can, because you have to ok? You need to get out safely."

"What about you?"

He wanted to growl out of frustration and shake her until she understood what he was trying to do.

"I can't lose you Olivia. You need to go so I know that you'll be ok."

She didn't miss a beat, "what about me?"

Suddenly, he was in that hospital corridor again, telling her that she and the job were all he had left. That if he lost her, he wouldn't be able to take it.

His lapse in concentration didn't go unnoticed by Ashton.

The last thing that registered was the sound of a gunshot and Olivia's screams.

And the coppery taste of blood.


	5. Touch

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Not even for Christmas!**

**Author's note: Yes, I'm still alive. I have been so busy with work (I need to serve all you mad people for Christmas!) that I didn't have a chance to just sit and write until the beginning of this week. If I made myself write, it'd seem forced and I'd be unhappy with it. So, I waited until I had time, and this came out. The end's smutty (:O!) so you've been warned. I might need to change the rating for next chapter. I think I can get away with a T rating for one sexy scene, but two might be pushing it. Lol.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this. It's the second last chapter, only an epilogue to go. Woot! Thanks for all your support, and remember to review. The more you review, the quicker I update! INCENTIVE! Yay! Lol.**

**Huge thanks to Scar and Nettie who have helped me out while I stressed about my grammar/ideas etc. Love you guys!**

**And Jenne, I finally got it updated ok? This is for you.**

**Go read anything by AllieM, you won't regret it. **

**Onwards with Touch!**

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts"

– Charles Dickens

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Sunday, October 17****th**

The first time he was roused from his drug-induced slumber, he had thought he was blind. The room had been completely dark, and his left shoulder screamed at him in agony as he lifted his hand to try and see if it was visible. His nerves were alleviated as he noticed the thin strip of light coming from under the door to his room. He had settled himself by breathing evenly, trying to remember where he was and why he was there.

The sting that shot down his arm as he shifted kindly reminded him; and his mind switched to its subject of choice.

Olivia.

_"What about you?"_

_"I can't lose you Olivia. You need to go so I know that you'll be ok."_

_"What about me?"_

_The shot rang out before Elliot could react, the bullet hitting him in the left shoulder. Ashton pulled the trigger again, but let out a wail as his gun jammed._

"_Elliot! Elliot!" Olivia was screaming for him across the room, her strangled cries reverberating in the small space._

"_Ashton, get down. NOW!" _

_Porter's voice now permeated the air, but Elliot's head had begun to swim, his arm like lead at his side. Blood was pumping furiously from his shoulder, his right hand pressing at the wound to stem the flow. He could feel and hear a number of bodies moving around the room, and he assumed that the team was apprehending Ashton. _

_He could feel one body in particular at his side, sobbing uncontrollably as warm hands pressed with his on his shoulder._

"_El? Can you hear me?"_

_He wanted to nod and tell Olivia he was ok, and that his shoulder was a little sore, but he couldn't find his voice._

"_El, the bus is coming, you gotta hold on ok? Remember? You have to be strong for me 'cause I can't do this alone."_

_She was whispering the words he had told her days ago in his ear, her lips moving softly against the lobe as she spoke. It calmed his heart-beat considerably and he felt his body relax. She moved her lips from his ear to his cheek, her tears mingling with his own._

"_Elliot, if you leave me now, I won't make it."_

_The honesty behind her words made his head spin even faster. He lifted his right hand to her face; it was bloodstained but she didn't seem to notice. He ran his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head. He was shivering now, uncontrollably as the blood loss began to overwhelm him._

"_Liv…I…"_

"_Ssh, please, Elliot. You tell me that when you wake up ok? Not now."_

_Her hand pressed harder, ignoring Porter's attempt to pull her away for medical attention of her own._

"_Fuck off Porter. Elliot, I know ok? Me too, but you tell me when you wake up…"_

_Porter had finally managed to pull her off him, the medics taking her place at his side._

_The last thing he remembered before slipping into unconsciousness; was the feeling of Olivia's hand, strong and warm, in his own. _

Two days later and rather than worrying about his sight, he was worried about his sanity.

He was itching to go to the toilet, but he was too nervous to call his nurse in case she tried to ask him out on a date again. Hanna had blonde hair, big blue eyes and was probably the same age as Maureen; but she was fixated with the idea that he was a cop. Every time she saw he was awake, her eyes would light up and she would interrogate him about his job until he feigned fatigue.

His restlessness also had a lot to do with the fact he hadn't seen Olivia in two days.

Ashton hadn't raped her like he had feared he might. Apart from dehydration and a cut that required stitches on her forehead, Olivia had escaped serious injury. Apparently, Ashton was more intent on harming him than Olivia.

And he succeeded, he thought wryly as he tried to move his injured shoulder. He winced as he flexed the fingers of his left hand, watching the muscles in his forearms move as he retracted them.

Porter had apprehended Ashton, and he was serving the full length of his 25-year sentence that Judge Petrovsky had so kindly dished out. This time, the judge had refused bail.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts and the movement of his fingers; he failed to notice the presence of another person in his room.

"You find the meaning of life?"

His head whipped up to meet the weary eyes of his Captain.

"Cap, it's outside visiting hours." He tried to sit up out of habit, but regretted his decision as his head began to swim.

Cragen approached his bed with an outstretched arm, "Stop. Just rest."

He flopped back against the pillows, trying to fight the exhaustion that was beginning to spread through his body.

Cragen sat himself in the chair beside his bed that Olivia had apparently made her own. That was until Saturday night just before he'd regained consciousness.

According to Casey, who had managed to sneak into his room just before his Captain, she was at home on doctor's orders, and it was taking all of Simon's strength to keep her there. He smiled widely at the angst that Simon was probably going through; if he himself was half as stubborn as her, her poor brother was probably ripping his hair out.

His smile faltered when he noticed the decidedly sombre look on his Captain's face.

Cragen sighed, leaning his arms on his legs so he could rub his face; he looked like he hadn't sleep in a week. He probably hadn't.

"Elliot, there are some serious questions that need answering."

He moved his head back to face his Captain, "Now?"

Cragen looked up, "Yeah, now. Because I know that you won't be able to storm out of the room or throw things around in a fit of rage."

Elliot wanted to laugh, but felt it catch in his throat as the movement made his shoulder twinge painfully. He'd have to bite the bullet soon and call Hanna for some pain-killers.

"Tucker was in my office yesterday afternoon looking for an explanation," he paused, clasping his hands together tightly, "we had to give him the tapes from the warehouse."

Elliot closed his eyes tightly, trying to remove the image of Tucker listening to him practically declare his love for Olivia. He'd forgotten for a moment that despite the fact he had pulled the wire out of his ear, it was still recording everything that had been said in that room.

"Did he listen to them?"

He kept his eyes closed, but he could feel Cragen moving in his chair, "We listened to them."

Shit.

"And?"

He opened his eyes at Cragen's silence. Knots began to twist his insides as he realised whatever Cragen had to say may not be what he wanted to hear.

"He heard what you said to Ashton, and what you said to Olivia."

He wanted to be embarrassed, he wanted to feel his face flush as he realised that half of the NYPD probably knew that he, Elliot Stabler, had it bad for his partner.

But all he really wanted to do was get Olivia with him alone without the presence of a mad gun-man so they could cut through all the bullshit that had been surrounding them for so long.

Cragen stood from his seat and began to pace the length of his hospital bed, "What did Tucker say?"

Cragen stopped, fixing Elliot with his tired gaze again, "That you couldn't work together anymore."

Elliot's heart moved into his throat, "What?"

Cragen nodded, "I could ignore the fighting as simply part of the pressures of the job, but IAB don't see blatant proclamations of love for your partner as an integral part of hostage negotiations. They couldn't look past this Elliot."

Elliot found himself looking anywhere but at his Captain. Mostly out of guilt. Cragen had showed so much faith in them as Detectives and as partners and he was defending them again in front of the brass. In the space of a week, they had managed to throw Cragen into a position that, at best, would end with a re-assignment for him or Olivia.

Or both.

"I'm sorry."

Cragen didn't answer, choosing instead to move across the room, stopping at the windowsill. He turned his back to Elliot, looking out at the city skyline barely visible through the frosted glass.

The fragmented images beyond it a reflection of the current situation.

"I know you are, Elliot." He turned back to face the bed, his arms folded in front of him. "Is it worth it?"

Elliot swallowed thickly, nodding his head, "She's worth it, Cap. When Kathy and I separated, the only thing that kept me going was the fact I knew that Olivia would be there in the morning and a phone call away. And then she left and a part of me died, Don."

Cragen was silent at the window, allowing him the space to vent what he'd bottled up during Olivia's absence, "And she came back, and I thought I'd be happy. But I was angry. And guilty. Angry at myself for letting our partnership disintegrate so easily, and guilty because I felt worse about the state of my partnership than my marriage." He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, trying to get rid of the burning sensation, "and the worst part is that it took me too God-damned long to figure it out. My wife figured it out before me for Christ's sake."

Cragen had moved quietly back to the chair at Elliot's bed-side, "You've left me in an awkward position Elliot."

He nodded, all of a sudden feeling leaden all over. His body was craving sleep, but his heart and mind needed closure, "What's going to happen?"

"I managed to convince the brass that you shouldn't lose your badges, but you can't be partners anymore."

"You want one of us to transfer out?"

He didn't want to hear the answer, but he forced his eyes to stay open long enough for Cragen's response.

"No."

Relief. Warm sweet relief began to replace the lead in his veins, and he felt a lightness he hadn't experienced in ages sweep over him. Despite his willingness to leave his job for the sake of exploring new territory with Olivia, he knew that she would kill him if she knew he'd given it up for her. He probably would've done the same to her.

He turned his weary eyes to watch his Captain as he moved to the door. "You'll need to explain to Munch, Fin and Lake why there's going to be a major re-shuffle in the squad."

Elliot smiled; a full-blown grin that felt foreign to him, "Thanks Captain."

Cragen's lips lifted in a tired smile. But his eyes were conveying so much more than Elliot had seen in more than a decade of working with him. For the first time in a long time, his Captain didn't look disappointed in the decision he was making in regards to his partnership with Olivia.

Cragen took in a deep breath, his hand resting on the doorknob, "Now sleep and maybe when they release you tomorrow morning we can finally un-cuff Olivia from her night-stand."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Monday, October 18****th**

"Wakey, wakey, Detective Stabler!"

He started groaning something he hoped was a 'fuck off', but the light that was now streaming through his window shut him up mid-grunt. His mouth had retained the cottony-feel that came from the drugs that helped him sleep, but a glass of water would fix that.

However, for a glass of water he would need to open his eyes.

And if he opened his eyes they would certainly meet those of his call nurse who had entirely too much energy for a morning. If Olivia were here, she'd have thrown both their coffees over her. And then Munch's for good measure.

"Elliot? You need to wake up for your morning dose. Hello?"

He cracked open one eye as minimally as possible, trying his best not to recoil at Hanna's close proximity.

"Morning." Her straight white teeth were bared in a huge grin, her nose almost touching his.

He moved his head to the side, lifting his right hand to rub sleepily at his eyes. "Can I get a glass of water please?"

Hanna's smile faltered somewhat, but she hid it by busying herself with her tray full of narcotics. One of which, he hoped, would return some sort of feeling to his arm.

"Here, Detective." She helped him into a sitting position, wheeling his tray in front of his so that he could take his pills.

"There's a lady for you in the waiting room, Detective Stabler."

He choked on the mouthful of water he was in the process of swallowing, coughs wracking his body as water escaped down his windpipe. His shoulder jarred and he gritted his teeth as the pain ripped at his shoulder.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he swore, fisting his hand tightly; hoping that his nails digging into his palm would take his mind off his shoulder.

"What have I told you Elliot? Try not to exert yourself too much," Hanna tutted at him, pushing him back lightly as she removed his tray-table.

Elliot ignored his impulse to push Hanna away, relenting to the pressure of her hands. He lay back into the pillows, "Am I still getting discharged today?"

Hanna stood back, arms folded, her foot tapping on the linoleum floor, "You can barely move. Do you have somebody who can take care of you?"

Elliot opened his mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He couldn't move back in with Kathy and his kids were still at school or college so they couldn't stay at his place. Maybe Munch or Fin or…

"He'll be staying with me."

Olivia.

"Liv," he was doing that thing with his mouth again; his vocal cords were refusing to work with him this morning.

"Hi, El." Her smile was so wide and beautiful that he closed his eyes so he could file it in his mind for future reference.

"Who are you?"

Hanna. God he wanted to shove her into something hard and solid so that she'd finally stop talking.

"I'm his partner." He opened his eyes and found that she was still looking at him intently, her hands buried in her coat's pockets.

Hanna turned back to him for confirmation, but as far as he was concerned she wasn't even in the room anymore. With a final look back at Elliot, and one full of contempt for Olivia, she left the room, the door snapping closed loudly behind her.

"Hi," he wanted to have said something thought-provoking or smooth, but the smile that continued to grace her face had rendered him somewhat speechless. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before, but he promised to himself silently that he would do everything in his power to make sure she never stopped.

She finally moved her eyes off him, as she surveyed his hospital room. Despite only being there for a few days, most of which were spent asleep or unconscious, his shelving was full of flowers from colleagues and well-wishers. She began to pace the room, her fingers finally running lightly over the flower petals of the vase closest to him; barely disturbing the delicate petals as she moved onto the next ones.

Her hand fell onto the bed-side table, along its smooth surface and then to the cool sheets of his hospital bed. He closed his eyes as her fingers brushed his injured shoulder, the warmth seeping from her finger-tips through the thin cotton of his hospital gown onto his skin.

Her hand was now resting where it was when he had been shot initially, and he felt her fingers contract lightly.

"I thought I'd lost you El," her voice was barely above a whisper, a lone tear escaping and falling onto his forearm, "I thought you were going to leave me, you lost so much blood."

He moved his right hand to cover the one on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in understanding, "what would I have done Elliot?"

He pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers lightly, "I'm here Liv, I'm not going anywhere. I promise you ok? We're in this together. Right?"

That smile was back and her eyes were clear despite her tears for the first time in five years. She wasn't running anymore; she wasn't running away from them despite all the risks involved.

"Right by your side Elliot, just like always."

His face broke out into the grin that Cragen had prompted from him the night before. He turned Olivia's hand in his, resting his lips against her palm, then the inside of her wrist; he couldn't get enough of the feel of her against him.

"El, you need to recover." She pulled her hand from his mouth, but settled it on his chest instead; "I'm not going to be held responsible for a slow recovery."

Elliot leant forward, his lips brushing her ear. "My lips aren't injured Liv."

He smirked as she leant into his touch, her body betraying her already weak protests.

"Elliot, we're in a hospital r…"

He knew from now on, if he ever wanted to silence Olivia, this was the best way to do it. His right hand moved of its own accord, sliding through and fisting in her hair. He liked it short, it reminded him of times when things had been easier between them, when they could be in the same room without it ending in an argument.

He much preferred this to fighting with Olivia, and as she moved her hand to cup his cheek, he didn't think he'd ever felt so warm and giddy. Her lips were soft and gentle against his, and he almost laughed as he thought about how brazen and tough as a person she was and how it went against everything this kiss was.

He let out a moan of his own as Olivia's tongue prodded softly at his lips, seeking entrance that he was very willing to give. He tried to get closer to Olivia, his hand leaving her head to press at her lower back, trailing up and down the rough material of her coat.

As air became an issue, Olivia pulled back, trailing kisses across his face; his nose, eyelids and cheeks. She was memorising his face with her lips, and he was lost in the feel of it.

"You're here," she kissed his ear, "not dead," his chin, "here with me," his nose, "I love you."

Her lips met his again in a far more frenzied kiss, almost as though keeping in contact with him would confirm in her mind that he was there with her. He wanted desperately to tell her that he loved her too, but she was doing something with her tongue that had made his mind spin helplessly.

If he had known she could kiss like this, he would've pulled her into the cribs a long time ago.

He went to run his left hand through her hair, but had to tear his lips from hers as a bolt of pain shot from his shoulder to his finger-tips. He fell hopelessly back into the pillows, panting lightly, cursing his shoulder and Ashton to hell.

He ran his right hand up to caress her cheek, thinking that with her lips so swollen and hair so mussed, nobody had ever looked so kissable. He moved his thumb across her cheek, then her lips, smiling as she kissed it.

"You're not dying anymore Elliot, you can tell me now." He wasn't sure what she was talking about at first, her voice was so low and husky that he shivered involuntarily instead.

"I do love you Olivia. I know, I'm an idiot, I should've told you ages ago," he stopped, moving their joined hands to his chest, "but we let everything get in the way. We can't let that happen again, ok? I think the guys at the precinct are tired of all our arguing."

Olivia laughed; the laugh momentarily froze the outside world and made everything seem inconsequential.

"Are you all set to leave?"

Her questioned startled him and he realised he had been staring. She released his hand and was looking around his room to make sure everything was packed away. Kathleen and the twins had been in the previous day to make sure he was all set to leave that morning.

"You have no idea." He sat up again, slower this time, "except the kids had no idea what to do with all these flowers, reckon I can leave them for Nurse Nutty?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow in question, "Who's Nurse Nutty?"

Elliot smirked, "My call nurse who won't leave me alone."

Olivia's face dawned in recognition, "Oh, you mean that nurse who tried to kill me with her eyes?"

Elliot snorted, "Yes, that's her. But be nice, I need clearance from her and my Doctor before I can leave"

Olivia smiled, shaking her head, "I'll be back."

"That's what you always say," he smiled coyly at her as she frowned at him over her shoulder.

"I'll leave you alone with Nurse Nutty if you're going to be rude like that," she paused at the doorway, "maybe she'll let you stay at her place?"

Elliot laughed, "Love you Olivia."

Olivia snorted, disappearing into the corridor, "That's what you always say."

By the time he had managed to get into a position that would allow him to get out of the bed, Olivia had returned with Hanna and his Doctor for a final evaluation.

"How are you feeling, Mr Stabler?" Dr Portman pulled his hospital gown off his shoulder where his wound was covered by a bandage.

Elliot winced as he pulled back the gauze, "Fine. Just numb more than anything, but the drugs are helping."

Portman nodded, "you're not feeling queasy?"

Elliot shook his head, "should I?"

Portman smirked, "No, Mr Stabler. But it's a normal reaction to a blood transfusion after a couple of days."

Elliot frowned, "blood transfusion?"

Portman continued to analyse his injury, "you lost a lot of blood, Detective. Lucky Miss Benson was riding with you; otherwise you may have bled out."

Elliot's eyes met Olivia's over Portman's shoulder. She had rolled up her sleeve to where a band-aid was covering her inner elbow and his heart skipped a beat.

_You know we've been partners all these years and I don't even know your blood type. _

_A-positive. _

_Well, what do you know? Me too. _

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at him, "I'm your partner, El. Who else would put up with you?"

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Four Weeks Later, Tuesday, November 18****th**

"Shit."

He opened the kitchen window in a vain attempt to stop the smoke from reaching the alarm. He had managed to set it off more times in his month-long stay with Olivia, than she had done in her entire time living there.

Well, that was what her neighbour had told him two days ago.

He was hoping he would be able to provide her with a home-cooked meal after a long week chasing dead-ends with Fin and Lake. She had called an hour ago, telling him she'd be home soon.

He moved with ease around her kitchen and, not for the first time, shook his head at how familiar Olivia's apartment felt to him. He hadn't been back to his own since Olivia had been abducted, but most of his stuff was now scattered all over her place.

His shoulder was healing well, and he was into his last week of physiotherapy. His arm no longer felt like lead when he moved it, and he would return to desk duty the coming Monday.

Work would require some minor shuffling, with he and Olivia announcing their relationship to the Detectives of the squad, Casey and his kids upon his release from hospital. Olivia had been re-assigned with Fin as her partner, and himself with Lake. Munch would act as a go-between.

As much as he loved sitting around watching Oprah and day-time soaps, he longed for the familiarity of the squad-room and being in closer proximity to Olivia. Even if she was no longer his partner, he still had an intrinsic belief that it was his duty to protect her.

Their time together had not gone without some arguments, most to do with Olivia's independent routines and habits which had to be reconfigured to include him. They were able to eventually achieve equilibrium each time; but it was clear Olivia had never been in the situation with another person, let alone another man, like she was facing each day with him.

He had to change as well. Olivia refused to take his excuse of being too tired as a reason not to talk to her about what he was feeling. He was so used to telling Kathy everything was okay, and that it wasn't anybody's problem but his own, that it shocked him at how easily the words left his mouth when they were speaking.

It was mostly late at night; and it was mostly with her pressed against him as tightly as possible.

He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her body against him in any way he could get.

When she'd kiss him good bye before she left for work in the morning, the taste of her on his lips a promise of what was to come that night.

When she'd slap his arm playfully as he held the remote control out of her reach as they stayed awake until they couldn't keep their eyes open anymore.

When she'd kiss the scar on his shoulder before she fell asleep every night during the first week, as though reminding herself that he really was there beside her.

He felt his body respond suddenly to the mere thought of Olivia's presence. Christ, he was like a randy teenager.

They both were. They couldn't get enough of each other. Since his injury had healed to a bearable numbness, there wasn't a room or surface in Olivia's apartment that hadn't been used as a way for them to get to know each other intimately.

He grinned as his eyes fell on the stool at the breakfast bar. He had barely been awake earlier in the day when Olivia had straddled his lap to wish him a very good morning.

The sound of keys in the lock startled him from his reverie. He turned the stove off, moving the hot pan to the sink so he could drain the pasta. He didn't even bother taking the garlic bread out of the oven, the charcoal pieces enough to get him banned from her kitchen for life.

"Something smells like its burning." He heard the smile in her voice as she appeared in the doorway, "but I'd eat a picture of a dead rat at the moment, so what've you got?"

"Hello to you too," he said over his shoulder, turning his head to avoid the steam from the hot food.

"Hi baby," she threaded her arms around his waist, resting her hands over his chest.

She stood on her tip-toes to reach his lips. "I made dinner."

She smiled against his mouth, "I can see…and smell that. How in the hell did you manage to burn the pasta?"

Elliot sat the pot on the sink, turning in her arms so he could envelope her in a hug, "I didn't burn the pasta."

She pulled back to lift an eyebrow at him, "ok, I burnt the garlic bread."

Olivia giggled, kissing him quickly before pulling away, "I need to get out of these clothes, and then we can eat."

Olivia hadn't been lying when she said she was hungry. An hour and two plates of pasta later, Olivia was laying with her back against the headboard, Elliot's head in her lap. He was almost lulled into sleep from the feeling of her hands running through his hair, her nails scraping lightly at his scalp.

"I miss you at work, El," she whispered to him, her hands never breaking rhythm, "I look up from my desk and I want to see you there."

Elliot opened his eyes, turning his head up to look at her, "I know. Fin isn't as sexy as me."

She smiled despite his lame attempt at humour, "I'm serious, Elliot. Fin and I went out to collar a perp today and I spent most of the time making sure he was there beside me. I never did that when we worked together."

Elliot shifted in the bed so that he was looking down at her, "Liv, it kills me to know that I won't be next to you every time you get into a potentially dangerous situation, but that's exactly why we can't be partners," Olivia nodded, resting her head in the crook of his neck, "How am I supposed to make an objective decision when you're at the crux of it?"

Her lips were wreaking havoc with his pulse-point and it was getting increasingly harder to speak with any sort of logic.

"I know. I love you and I just miss you. Maybe it'll change once you get back to the precinct?"

Elliot nodded, tracing his hand under her tee to stroke her back. He couldn't get over how warm her skin was; no matter how cold it was, she would always have impossibly hot skin.

"We have something in common…" She raised her eyebrow in question. "I love you and I missed you today," he whispered, using his unoccupied hand to smooth up her leg, "I had nobody to laugh with when I was watching MXC."

Olivia snorted, trying her best to seem unaffected by where his hand was moving to, "Nobody likes that except you."

Elliot pretended to be offended, "you laughed!"

Olivia sighed as his hand reached her hot centre, "shit…I was laughing at…oh…you."

Elliot smirked into her hair, his fingers sliding into her warmth, "oh yeah?"

Olivia nodded, her hand clawing at his shirt as her hips bucked towards his hand. Her thighs tightened around his fingers, keeping them where they were. Not that he had any plans to remove them soon.

"Oh, Elliot." He loved the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth, it was like she was trying to hypnotise him with each syllable. And it always worked.

"Yeah, Liv?"

Her breath hitched as he hit a spot a decidedly sensitive spot inside of her, "fuck."

He groaned at how husky her voice had grown, and a certain part of him grew in response.

She moved quickly, throwing her left leg over his thighs to straddle him, his hard length begging for release from the confines of his cotton boxers. Olivia's hands made quick work of his boxers and he was inside of her before he could even remove his fingers properly.

"I love you inside of me, Elliot." Her eyes searched his as she slid down his length slowly, "this is worth not having you beside me during the day." She closed her eyes, her head falling back, "having you beside me at night to help me forget what a shitty day I had is worth it."

Elliot nodded, giving into the need to attach his lips to her exposed neck, "you gotta move faster Liv, or this'll be over real soon."

He could barely stand the feeling of her hot and tight over him, her walls pulsing lightly against his cock. She needed to move, but she seemed beyond it at the moment, a low moan working its way out of her throat.

He took the initiative instead, flipping them over so he was hovering over her, her legs wrapping themselves automatically around his waist, "oh, shit, El."

He was impossibly deep inside her now, the new angle causing her moan to become more high pitched and persistent; a red flush covering her face. He couldn't see her chest, but he knew it was there as well. He would have laughed at the way their desire for each other had barely allowed them to get enough clothes off, but she was doing that thing with her tongue again and he could barely remember to keep moving.

He traced his hand back up her leg to where they were joined, and rubbed his finger once, twice, three times against her swollen clit and she exploded below him. His name an un-ending mantra from her lips as she began to shake from her orgasm. He loved watching her face as she came; the way her eyes and mouth would open wide, her hands gripped him tightly wherever she could reach, her inner muscles gripping at his throbbing cock as her orgasm tore through her.

"Shit, Liv," he panted, his lips dropping to hers.

"Come for me, El," she said around his tongue.

She tightened her inner muscles, and he followed her over the edge.

"God, I needed that," Olivia sighed, hooking her leg over Elliot's thigh so he'd stay over her.

Elliot smiled against her neck, licking at the sheen of sweat that was covering her skin, "yeah, me too."

Olivia's breathing evened out not long after that, and he was finally able to roll off her to allow her to breathe more easily. Immediately, her hands reached out for him and he smiled at the way that even in sleep, she was searching for him to be at her side.

He pulled one of them up to his lips, kissing her fingers like he did the first time he saw her in the hospital, revelling in the calm that was sweeping so easily through his veins. It was a calm that had taken a long time for him to find; and if it came from telling Olivia that he loved her that achieved it, he wondered why he hadn't done it earlier.

Maybe, if he had realised how wonderful Olivia would feel wrapped in his arms, he would've taken her in them a lot sooner.

Maybe, if he had, he would have realised that there was more safety on offer in one of Olivia's hands than both their skills as police officers combined.

Although he'd never tell any living soul, he was grateful to Robert Ashton for opening his eyes to the possibility of a life and future with Olivia Benson. As she slept soundly in his arms, he tried to imagine where he would be if the events all those weeks ago hadn't occurred.

He found that his mind pulled up only feelings of guilt and misery.

But here, lying in bed next to Olivia, he felt like there was only room to grow, both independently and together.

The potentiality that he feared they were lacking had begun to blossom with each day that passed, and reinforced with each minute together.

And because she would always be his partner, in the feeling of Olivia at his side.


	6. Proprioception Part 1

**Disclaimer: No, not mine. And if I was producing the quality of writing at the moment, I wouldn't want them to be ****mine**** either.**

**Author's note: Where to start? I could start by apologising for taking so long to update but I know you all love me and that you'll forgive. ****Right?**** But I am sorry, I've just been so busy that I haven't had the chance to sit and write. The past couple of days have allowed me to put thoughts to paper. Or screen. ****Lol****Same difference.**** I understand that there's a serious EO drought right now, so this chapter is my attempt at helping you forget about it. **

**I was going to wait another week before posting this because it wasn't quite finished; but with some prompting from Nettie, I've decided to post the epilogue in two parts. I've only completed what I've posted at the moment, and will need to write the next part when I get the time. But it's entirely up to you guys. You need to tell me in a review if you want another chapter; and if enough of you do, I'll post the second part. This chapter ends quite well, and I'm more than happy to leave it at that; but if I get enough of you persuading me otherwise, I'll post part two. ****Deal?**

**So take the time to leave a review; maybe a sentence, maybe one word. I love to hear from you guys.**

**Hope you enjoy it.**

**Allie and Sam – you keep me inspired.**

**My thanks and love to Nettie and Scar who have had some hard times recently. This is for you guys.**

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"Someone to whom we feel profoundly connected, as though the communication and communing that take place between us were not the product of intentional efforts, but rather a divine grace. This kind of relationship is so important to the soul that many have said there is nothing more precious in life"

- Thomas Moore

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Proprioception: ****Some disciplines believe that we have a sixth sense, one that some call psychic; an innate knowledge often associated with a gut feeling. ****Or, perhaps, simply knowing your ****soulmate****beyond the boundaries of the five regular senses.**

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**One Year Later**

"I didn't do it, I swear."

Elliot smirked from behind the one-way mirror of the interrogation room, watching with his Captain and Huang as Olivia and Lake tried to get Lesley Pullman to crack. Pullman had been accused by his girlfriend of molesting her five year-old daughter. The girl had been silent since, refusing to speak to or have anyone in close proximity apart from her mother and Olivia.

All the evidence pointed at Pullman, including an eye-witness account and the fact Isabelle Cooke had been in his care on the day her mother had lodged the complaint. But Casey claimed that what they had was circumstantial at best and they needed a confession if they were to indict; especially if Isabelle Cook remained silent.

And it didn't help that their eye-witness believed John F. Kennedy was President.

In a bid to seem innocent, Pullman waived his right for representation, but the detectives had experienced enough to know that it didn't necessarily equal an innocent conscience. Gordon Rickett had allowed a 24-hour interrogation to take place without legal assistance and he had been guilty as sin.

"I swear to you! I didn't do it! Why don't you believe me?"

Elliot shook his head, rubbing his chin in frustration. Pullman's story was changing more times than they could keep up with. He was still sticking to his guns that he was innocent, but Elliot had a gut feeling there was something he was holding back.

"He did it!" He turned to Huang, "I know he did it. But we're not getting through to him."

Huang nodded, "I think he did it as well. He fabricates events where it's necessary for his story to be credible, but not so much that it isn't. You need to trap him in his lies."

Elliot nodded, turning to Cragen, "I want to go back in there."

Cragen levelled his gaze at him, and Elliot had the distinct feeling he was being x-rayed. He was silent so long he was afraid his Captain had forgotten what he'd asked him.

Finally, Cragen nodded. "Pull Lake out."

Elliot froze, thinking he hadn't heard Cragen right. Since he and Olivia had been split up, Cragen had diligently kept them apart in all facets of work so that IAB and One PP would keep off his back; and that included interrogating suspects. The only time they ever interacted together at work was when they were making coffee at the same time or when they were all in the bullpen brainstorming.

"Lake, sir?"

He kept his voice low; almost as if he spoke any louder he'd break Cragen out of the trance he had to be in. He wouldn't be telling him to go into that room under any other steam.

Maybe Munch had put something in the coffee earlier in the morning as a way for them to remember him by.

Cragen turned to face the mirror, "Yes, Elliot, Lake. And don't let me regret my decision."

Elliot took one more look back at his Captain before moving purposefully towards the door to the interrogation room, taking a deep breath before yanking it open.

Pullman looked up with a furrowed brow, "You come to beat me up again?"

Elliot smirked, "I barely touched you."

When he and Fin had taken their turn at Pullman earlier in the day, Elliot had introduced him to the wall of the precinct.

Twice.

Pullman let out a puff of air in dissent, but Elliot was now focused on the way Olivia was trying to hide the small smile he could see creasing the sides of her mouth. As soon as he stood to the left of her he felt as if he was returning home to something; a sense of familiarity running through his veins. And he could feel from the way her back became straighter, that she was thinking the exact same thing.

Lake had left without another word, the door snapping shut quietly.

Pullman was now fixing them with a look that Elliot hadn't seen in a perp since he and Olivia had been partners.

Fear.

There was something about their combination that was able to evoke a sense of anxiety and uncertainty in the most self-assured suspect.

This is what had been missing over a year ago.

_This _was what was missing between him and Fin and Olivia and Lake.

The intangible; the feeling that didn't come to just anybody; but which had to be earned after years of being partners and understanding each other's rhythm and movement.

Being able to anticipate.

Being able to predict.

Being able to sense.

Elliot strode to the empty seat next to Olivia, sitting down heavily, "Now, Lesley, there are some things we're not quite understanding."

Pullman eyed him cautiously, suddenly unsure in what he was saying. "Like what? That I'm innocent? That can't be really hard to understand. I didn't do it, simple as that."

Olivia turned to Elliot. "You hear that Detective Stabler? He thinks we're stupid."

Pullman swallowed loudly, "No, I didn't. I just..."

"Shut up," Elliot cut him off, "you told us that on Monday you weren't even looking after Isabelle." He leant forward slightly, folding his hands in front of him. "So who did you leave her with?"

Pullman frowned. "With the neighbour."

Elliot didn't answer, beginning instead to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt. Pullman watched him with wide eyes, and he could feel Olivia almost smiling next to him.

Olivia tapped the table with her index finger. "Which neighbour Mr. Pullman?"

Pullman was still focused on Elliot as he rolled his sleeve up his forearm, "Mrs Enfield," he stuttered.

Olivia rose from her chair, the legs scratching loudly along the floor, "You mean senile Mrs Enfield who thinks it's 1975?"

Pullman was now watching as Olivia moved slowly behind him, but he didn't dare turn his head and expose himself to Elliot, "She seemed in a right frame of mind when I left Isabelle with her."

Olivia nodded, pretending to accept his answer. "What time would you say you did that?"

Pullman leant back, "around three in the afternoon."

Olivia paused, "But you told Detectives Stabler and Tutuola that it was at two." She was now directly behind Pullman's chair, leaning down to his ear. "Were you lying Mr. Pullman?"

Pullman shook his head frantically, "Maybe it was two. I don't know. It was in the afternoon sometime."

Elliot watched as Olivia moved her head to Pullman's other ear, smirking in what he hoped was a menacing way. Pullman was rattled, his leg bouncing up and down as Olivia invaded his personal space.

"We asked Mrs Enfield if you left Isabelle with her," Olivia whispered, "and she had no recollection of ever being left in charge of a small child" Olivia's lips were now a scant inch from Pullman's ear. "But do you know who remembers exactly what happened that day?"

Elliot watched as Pullman's eyes widened further, his own flicking to Olivia's. She raised her eyebrow imperceptibly.

She was bluffing.

"Tell me Detective Benson," Elliot requested, leaning in further, "who?"

Olivia moved her head again to Pullman's other ear, "Do you know who lives in the apartment on the other side of the Cooke's? He's a retired detective from the homicide division, Mr Pullman, and old habits die hard. Do you know what he remembers?"

Pullman's mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish, but only a squeaking sound was coming out.

Elliot cocked his head to the side, "No, Detective Benson, what does he remember?"

"He seems to remember your story going a little differently. Tell me Mr Pullman," Olivia leant, if possible, even closer, "how do you think your two stories diverged?"

Pullman's head dropped to the table, and Olivia's shining eyes met his.

Bingo.

_We got him, El._

_I know. I've missed this._

_Yeah, me too._

Pullman dissolved into tears, repeating "I'm sorry" onto the table's surface.

Elliot sat back, watching as Olivia scooped up the papers sitting on the table in between he and Pullman. He hadn't realised how much he missed working with her until now, and how out of sync he now seemed as Fin's partner. They had spent all morning trying to get a confession out of Pullman, and it had taken all of ten minutes with Olivia to get a result.

He sighed, moving out of his seat so Casey could take his place to get a signed confession from the blubbering Pullman. Following Olivia out of the room, their Captain was waiting for them on the other side of the mirror.

Elliot and Olivia stood next to each other while Cragen, with his hands deep in his pockets, kept his gaze on Casey and Pullman.

"Great job," Cragen said, eyes still on the occupants of the other room. "Type up the DD-5 and get out early. I'll see you tonight."

Elliot tried his best to repress the smile he wanted to give at how good he felt at that moment, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Right, Munch's retirement party."

How could he forget? He'd spent five hours following Olivia into every dress store in Manhattan trying to find something for her to wear.

They hadn't found anything, but they probably weren't going to be welcomed back with open arms at Macy's anytime soon. It wasn't entirely his fault, Olivia had been half-naked and the other dressing rooms had been empty. He had simply taken advantage of the situation offered to him.

He had never been a fan of public displays of affection, let alone sex in the fitting room of a department store, but Olivia brought out a side of him that he didn't know he had in him. And he had to say, he loved every minute of it.

Despite being together for a little over a year, Munch's retirement dinner would be the first place where they would attend as a couple in front of all of their colleagues.

Neither he or Olivia particularly enjoyed social gatherings, but as he followed her back into the bullpen, he thought maybe, for the first time, he actually would.

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"Dad, why are you so nervous?"

The blue eyes of his eldest daughter looked up at him as he attempted to do up the buttons of his white dress shirt. He had missed the same button-hole twice and he was grateful when Maureen gently moved his hands to the side to finish the job herself.

Her question was a loaded one. He wasn't nervous because of what he was about to do. He was nervous because he _wasn't _nervous about what he was going to do. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when he was so sure about something.

"She'll say yes, you know," Maureen had finished his shirt and was now inching his tie over his head.

Navy blue. Like Olivia's dress.

Also like the colour Olivia said his eyes were when she caught him staring at her.

Or the colour she had been wearing when she had left him after the Gitano case.

But, more importantly, the colour she had been wearing when she had come back to him.

"I know she will," he winced as Maureen tugged his tie over his ear, "but it's a big step, you know. It might mean one of us will have to transfer out completely."

Maureen nodded, lifting his collar as she straightened his tie, "She's good for you dad. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time."

Elliot nodded. Since he and Kathy had finalised their divorce over a year ago, their relationship had become easier; more amicable. Olivia encouraged him to go out to dinner with his ex-wife and his kids at least once a month and he found himself communicating with his ex better than he ever did married.

His kids were old enough to realise that the divorce was in everybody's best interests, culminating with Henry moving in with Kathy over six months ago. He wasn't as upset about the developments as he thought he would be; but then again, if he did have an issue, he'd be a huge hypocrite.

The baby hadn't been his either; and he was okay with that. He hadn't been in the right frame of mind to go through the motions of having another child; especially with Kathy. Baby James had taken his mother's maiden name as well as her blue eyes, and Elliot smiled widely when Lizzie and Dickie would inform him about every little thing that he would get up to.

Olivia would listen to their conversations with a wistful look on her face. But he knew that behind the beautiful smile she'd give his kids as they told her how James had said his first word, there was a fear. Fear about having kids of her own.

But also fear that she may never get to experience it herself.

Yet, that had changed a month ago.

Henry had been in a car accident and Elliot had offered to babysit the twins and James while Kathy stayed at the hospital. Lizzie and Dickie had fallen asleep almost as soon as they started the movie they had brought; and when he had returned from tucking them in inside one of the guest rooms, he had walked into the living room to see Olivia cradling James in her arms.

For a full ten minutes he was glued to the spot; taken aback by not just how happy she looked, but by how badly he wanted to have kids with this woman.

By how lucky a child would be to have her as their mother.

Olivia had looked up at him at that point, and held his eyes as she gently rocked James back to sleep. And he had known.

He knew, right then.

Right there, he saw in her eyes a clarity about not only her future, but _their_ future, that she had been uncertain about since they had begun seeing each other.

All the doubt she had about being a mother that came from her own upbringing and as far back as her conception, had been dissipated in the seconds that she had James in her arms.

_Half my genes are drunk and the other half are cruel and violent_

_And look how great you turned out_

That discussion had been at a time when he himself had been in the middle of a separation from his family; and for a moment they had shared in their loneliness.

But in Olivia's living room, where she had experienced so much heartache; as she lowered James in between a border of pillows, he hadn't thought he'd seen Olivia look so complete.

"Done."

Maureen stepped back as though admiring her handiwork, either oblivious or ignoring the fact he had been off in his own little world. She moved out from in front of him so that he could see his reflection in the mirror.

"You look great, Dad."

He turned to Maureen, "Thanks, sweetie." He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

"You call me when she says yes, okay?"

He laughed, her hair tickling his nose. "You'll be the first call I make."

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

When he had married Kathy, there had been no proposal.

No chance to ask her father for his permission.

No option of setting up their future and then asking for her hand at a romantic candlelit dinner.

No opportunity to call her 'his fiancé'.

When they had married, she had been three months pregnant and he had spent the majority of the wedding avoiding her father. She had worn white, her belly barely showing as she sipped water during the speeches, smiling happily at all the warm well-wishers. Nobody had been the wiser.

And nobody said anything six months later when Maureen was born.

During the reception, held in her parents' back garden, he had been accosted by a particularly overzealous aunty of Kathy's as he was coming out of the bathroom; her pudgy face slightly pink from too much champagne and wine. She had grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip and had asked him questions that under normal circumstances would be easily answerable.

_How did you propose?_

_How long were you engaged for?_

_What next?_

He stood there, completely at sea, thanking the heavens that the aunty was too inebriated to properly register his answers. He hadn't really proposed; it had merely been a survival tactic.

If he didn't want to be murdered by Kathy's father, then he was to marry her as soon as possible. As a result, they hadn't technically been engaged. And as to what was to come next; it was no longer up to him. He was now a husband and soon-to-be father. All the plans he had carefully made a decade ago were no longer viable options if he and Kathy were going to make it.

In the end, she had bore him four beautiful children and twenty mostly happy years as a married man. He would never regret what they had, no matter how rushed and unpredictable it had been.

But he was now facing a completely new frontier with Olivia. He had the opportunity for the romantic proposal; for the time before the wedding to call her 'his fiancé' to any and all concerned. And he felt he was in a position in his life where he was finally settled; where his future seemed a lot more controllable.

He and Olivia had spoken about marriage over the past six months, and she seemed very open to the idea. When he had voiced his intentions to his children and Cragen the past week, they had been incredibly excited and happy at the news of the development.

Kathleen and Maureen had helped him pick out the ring, and he had settled on one that had made his daughters squeal at its 'prettiness'.

That had been three days ago, and he had spent those days and subsequent nights stressing over the best way to ask his partner and best friend of nine years to marry him.

Kathleen had suggested hiding it in a piece of cake Olivia would eat for dessert.

Maureen thought putting it in a glass of champagne was the best way to do it.

Lizzie held firm in her belief that Olivia would appreciate a trip to the top of the Empire State Building.

Dickie, in stark contrast, would roll his eyes and claim that Elliot could simply throw the ring at Olivia and she'd say yes. His indifferent attitude was a smoke-screen however; he adored Olivia. In fact, he had overheard Dickie asking Maureen if it would be ok to call Olivia 'mum' as well.

Despite assuring his children that each method was a wonderful suggestion, minus that of Dickie's, they lacked something. Not so much originality, but more that they didn't reflect his and Olivia's dynamic.

The reality was that they simply weren't dessert, champagne or Empire State Building people. They were happy to eat two-day old takeout from the precinct fridge when they stayed behind in the office for the fourth night in a row.

They were happy to turn their noses up at unknown food items found under their car-seats; and then laugh about it when they dared each other to eat it.

They were happy to sit in their sweats late at night, watching crappy re-runs until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

No, they weren't those types of people. Not for proposals anyway.

He toyed with the small velvet box resting in his suit pocket, as he fished for the key to her apartment with his other hand. He pushed open the door gently, and grinned immediately at the sound of Olivia singing off-key from the direction of the bathroom.

"Liv?"

The last time he had snuck up on her, he had ended up on the other side of her glock; his head in the firing line. If he hadn't been so terrified of being shot between the eyes, he would've laughed at how Olivia's face was covered in a gooey green beauty mask, a piece of cucumber hanging off her chin.

"Elliot?"

He smiled again, his heart fluttering slightly as her head poked around the corner. "You ready?"

"Um, not quite. Give me five." She winked, "and stay there." She pointed her finger at him, noticing his movement towards her.

He smirked at her, challenging her with his eyes, "I'm serious El, stay."

He pouted, but her gaze remained unwavering. "Fine," he relented, shaking his head as hers disappeared back into the bathroom.

He sighed. Olivia's five minutes translated to twenty minutes when it came to her getting ready. He'd learnt that the hard way. For all the times she'd been on time, or even ahead of time, when it came to work related issues; somehow, her social clock was always delayed by several minutes. He flopped onto the couch, running his hands up and down his thighs so he had something to do with them that wasn't fidgeting.

"Casey called. She'll be here in twenty minutes; she got held up in court."

Elliot nodded, trying to ignore his body's desire to defy Olivia's order for him to stay out of the bathroom. It was getting increasingly hard to do, but if they were to be on time; and if Casey were to voluntarily keep her eyesight, it was best that he stay where he was.

But that meant he was alone with his thoughts; and that meant they automatically switched to what had been overwhelming him for the past week and a bit.

How to propose to Olivia.

He was sure she'd say yes, she'd been hinting at it more and more. But he didn't want to disappoint her. She'd been engaged before; she'd revealed that to him on one of the first cases they'd worked together, but the tone in which she described the occasion indicated it had left a lot to be desired. Granted, this was a completely different situation, but he wanted her to be able to have a story to tell their children and grandchildren.

To tell their friends and work colleagues.

The ideas that his children had so helpfully spouted lingered in his mind momentarily, but he dismissed them almost as quickly. He knew the perfect way to do it. And it didn't involve hidden jewellery and building-high confessions.

Underneath it all, he and Olivia were much less complex than that.

He smiled, as the sounds of her footsteps approached him, because he knew that as long as they were in it together, they would both appreciate the simplicity of it.

"Ready?"

He desperately wanted to say something suave, but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth as Olivia stood in front of him. Screw the proposal; he wanted to start the honeymoon ASAP.

Her navy blue gown matched his tie perfectly, but that was the last thing on his mind as she did a mini-pirouette in front of him. The dress clung to all the right curves and ended just at the knee; the legs he adored wrapped around his body on full display.

The halter part of the dress was adorned with crystals that matched the chandelier earrings she was putting on; but her smile was even more dazzling than the jewellery.

He was rendered temporarily speechless; and fleetingly, Dickie's idea of throwing the ring at Olivia wasn't sounding like such a bad one after all.

"Wow, Liv...you look. Wow."

Jesus Christ, he had it bad. He couldn't even form complete sentences. But her smile indicated that she was more than pleased with his situation.

"Casey helped pick it out."

"Oh did she now?" He made a mental note to thank the DA.

Olivia nodded, her arms resting on his shoulders as he pulled her close, "And my earrings?"

Elliot's eyes shifted to look at the glittering jewellery, "They're beautiful."

Olivia grinned, "Your daughters picked them out for me."

Elliot's mouth opened. "All three agreed on one thing?"

Olivia snorted and all Elliot could do was pull her tightly into his arms, his hands coming into contact with...

"There's no back, Liv."

Olivia pulled away, turning in his arms, "I did a turn for you, didn't you notice?"

Elliot shook his head, trying his best to keep his hands and lips from indulging in the expanse of skin that was on offer. "I was too focused on your legs to be honest."

Olivia shivered as he ran his hand down her smooth back. "Does that mean you're not wearing any underwear?"

Olivia's forehead creased, but she continued to smile, "I spend two hours getting ready and you want to mess it up already?"

He leant in conspiratorially, "Then I'll give you a two hour head start."

Her dark eyes became almost black and he knew that she knew what he was thinking. It was as simple as that sometimes; just a look, or even a touch, and he'd know exactly what she wanted. And it worked in the reverse just as effectively.

Finally, she smiled again, her eyes almost rolling, "I'll get my bag."

As she walked back to her bedroom, the feeling of the small box began to feel like lead, and he knew that if he was going to ask Olivia, now was the perfect time. They were certainly dressed for the occasion, and he could only imagine the sort of screeching that would permeate the air when Casey arrived.

He pulled the box out, holding it firmly in the palm of his hand, trying to steady the frantic beating of his heart.

"Hey, my phone won't fit in my purse, you got room...what?"

Olivia stopped where she was, hands at her side. He had no idea what gave him away, but she sensed three seconds into entering the room that something was off. He tried to nonchalantly move his hands behind his back, but her eyes caught the slight movement and her mouth quirked into a smile.

"What are you doing?" Her eyes dipped back down again, but were straight up to meet his gaze just as quickly.

"Nothing," he cleared his throat, "just waiting for you. As usual."

Her eyes narrowed a little bit, her arms folding beneath her bust, "Elliot, what did you do?"

No guts, no glory.

"I just think you look so gorgeous tonight Liv. I'm practising keeping my hands off you."

Olivia snorted, shaking her head. "You're an idiot."

Elliot nodded his head in assent. "Yeah, but you still love me."

Olivia's smile faltered a little, her eyes fixing him with a look that would, and probably could, burn Lucifer himself. "Of course I do. Elliot, what did you do? Did you break something?"

He desperately wanted to laugh, but he knew that if he did, he'd lose what little valour he had. "No. But I was thinking."

Olivia nodded, encouraging him without words. She was always best at that, giving him the courage he required without him feeling as though he was needy, without patronising him.

"And I noticed that Casey helped with your dress, and the kids helped with your earrings, but I didn't do anything."

Olivia's mouth quirked. "You did me...in the dressing room."

Elliot took a step forward. "You know that's not what I meant."

Olivia cocked her head to the side and he knew that she was trying to read his thoughts. If only he could somehow block his mind from her; just for a second. He didn't want to spoil this.

"Well, you're paying for the cab ride. I think that counts for a lot."

He snorted, and Olivia's face seemed to lose some of the tension that had appeared with his secretiveness. He dropped the box into his back pocket, glad to see that this time, her eyes didn't follow.

"But, I realised I do have something."

Olivia's face broke into a beautiful smile, as she took a step forward. "What do you have?"

He ran his hand across her face, shifting her fringe as he went. "I've been doing a lot thinking recently..." he ignored the roll of her eyes. "And I was wondering. What does Olivia Benson want most in this world?"

"To find out what you're hiding from me?" She grinned at him impishly as she grabbed at his back pockets with her free hand.

"Hey! Hey!" he jumped out of her reach, taking her hands in his.

"Come on Elliot; don't make me kick your ass." She lifted her eyebrow, pulling him into her as closely as she could.

Out of everybody he knew; Olivia was probably the only one who could go toe to toe with him in a contest.

He tried to fend her off, but settled for holding her hands in his at her sides, "Liv, come on. You're making this hard and not at all romantic."

Olivia bit her lip, bowing her head, "ok."

When she looked back up at him, her saw that her eyes had begun to fill with tears. Her playfulness had been a way of hiding how vulnerable she was at that moment. He rubbed his nose against Olivia's; offering her solidarity in the silence.

He sighed, straightening slightly as he released the grip on Olivia's hands. "As I was saying; I thought of all the obvious things, you know? Family, happiness..." He leant forward, his lips brushing hers. "A drop dead gorgeous boyfriend."

A puff of air hit his lips as she chuckled. "Ok, maybe just gorgeous."

She shook her head, her lips moving back and forth across his. "No, I think it was an accurate description," her eyes lifted to his. "I just think you were selling yourself short is all."

He smiled, his hand squeezing her hip. "And then I remembered all those fears you used to tell me, Liv. About what sort of mother you'd be, what your kids would be like, whether you had some sort of intrinsic iniquity that made you deserve less than what you do."

He brushed a tear that had escaped, and she smiled embarrassedly. "Are you trying to get my make-up to run? Is that what you have for me?"

Elliot moved his hand from her hip to her cheek. "No, Liv. I just have a promise."

Olivia moved her head back, her eyes widening slightly. "What?"

"I promise that I will do everything I can to show you that you deserve everything you've missed out on. That I'll make the ghosts that haunt you from the job a little bit more bearable at night because I know what you're going through. I want you to be able to tell everybody proudly that you didn't have to accept some loser's proposal because you wanted to get away from your past."He pulled the ring out from his pocket, wiping at another tear. "I want you to accept my proposal because you want to go into the future; and hopefully, you'll let me be there to help you find the way if you get a little lost. God knows I will."

Olivia laughed, her eyes shining with tears. "You always sucked at navigating."

Elliot's chest rumbled with laughter, his fingers continuing to sweep at her tears. "That's why you're in the passenger seat next to me."

Olivia's hand cupped his cheek. "Where are you getting all this from, El?" her breath hitched, "I thought you'd broken a vase or something, and you get all wise on me."

He laughed, "You have no idea how long it's taken me to think of what to say, baby."

Olivia's bag fell from her grasp as she pulled him into a fierce hug; her body wracking as she sobbed into his neck. He ran his hands up and down her back, trying to comfort her, as his words overwhelmed her.

"Liv, I love you sweetheart. I want to tell everybody that you're going to be my wife - that we're going to get married." He kissed her hairline. "What do you say?"

"Yjijhidg," her lips moved against his neck, but he couldn't hear a thing.

"You'll need to come out from hiding, baby."

She pulled back, her eyes shining, "I said, yes," her hands cupping his cheeks. "Of course I'll marry you, El."

He opened the box that he was holding tightly in his hand, revealing the white gold band adorned with diamonds.

"Oh, El, it's beautiful," Olivia covered her mouth with her right hand, allowing Elliot to slip the ring onto her finger.

"Now, I think your outfit's complete."

Olivia pulled her eyes off the ring, smiling up at him, "I think this'll go with every outfit."

She looked back down at it, holding her hand out so the light reflected off it. "Does that mean you're my fiancé?"

He gave her a quick kiss, "I guess it does."

Olivia yanked the lapel of his jacket to seal her mouth over his, her lips still upturned into a grin. He soon changed that, his tongue slipping past her lips and exploring the only mouth that he would ever kiss again. That he would ever _want _to kiss again. Olivia ran her left hand through his hair and he revelled in the feeling of the cool metal of the band in it, despite it catching at his hairs lightly.

Olivia pulled back, kissing the side of his mouth, "Casey'll be here soon, and I gotta fix my make-up."

He nodded, his eyes still closed and nose rubbing against her lips, "And I have to call Maureen."

"She babysitting the twins?"

He smiled, "No, I just promised to call her when you said yes."

Olivia backed up towards the bathroom. "She was certainly sure of herself."

He shook his head, noticing that wearing his ring and the signs of being thoroughly kissed, she had never looked so beautiful.

"She's a Stabler, Liv. All my kids are like that."

Olivia chewed on her lip in thought. "Does that mean when I become a Stabler I automatically get a boost in my ego?"

"When you become a Stabler?"

He could scarcely believe how light-headed he was feeling; how happy his heart was.

Olivia winked, "Of course. I think I've officially outgrown my past," she paused at the doorway, "and I think the world definitely needs two Detective Stablers."

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**To be continued? Let me know. R/R.**


	7. Proprioception Part 2

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.**** Still.**

**Authors note: **

**I ****wish I had**** some sort of brilliant excuse as to why it's taken me over a month to update. But I don't. I can be honest with you though. I've been putting it off because I knew that once this chapter was finished, then that would be the end for this story. And that made me sad because I've loved writing this, and I've loved hearing how each chapter has affected you guys (or not affected you guys. ****Lol)**** So, seeing as this is the last chapter, you have to let me know what you thought. I was thinking of doing a sequel (with a wedding, or post-wedding story) or even a companion piece from Olivia's point of view. So let me know if you think that's a good idea my dears.**

**I have so many people to thank, and I'll only list a few otherwise this will go on forever and ever. If I don't mention you, don't take offense, it's not that I've forgotten you, it's just that this AN would be 70 pages if I put everyone down. **

**First, to all those who've reviewed. Thanks for all your support; I look forward to hearing from you for the last time.**

**To Gabby, my recent convert and ****bestie.**** I've loved your in-depth reviews and the way you describe smut as "sexy time". Love you long tan!**

**To Denise, Allie, Rach and Sarah; thank you for your ****uber**** supportive reviews. For listening to me bitch and moan about everything and anything**** and still loving me enough to keep talking to me.**

**To those on the forums who make me laugh with their enthusiastic EO support.**

**To Hannah**** for keeping me going by giving me snippets of your story.**** And of course for asking every single night about the status of Senses, and making ****me**** laugh about penal sanctions and ****Elliot's gun. ****So thank you sweetie.**

**Last but not least, my beautiful betas. **

**Scar who has gone a little mad; but it still brilliant. Despite the time difference you've always managed to get your ****feedback to me so very quickly, and having me in stitches with each and every reply. ****Thank you so much.**

**And to Nettie who has read over as little as two sentences and still commented. ****I don't think I'd have it up today if it wasn't for your constant pressing. ****Which is a good thing.**** I also don't think I quite have the words that would describe how appreciative I am. ****'****Wockets****'**** seems to blasé and ****'****thanks****'**** just too simple. But I think you have a general idea of what I'm trying to say, so thank you will have to do.**

**Just a side note: You'll come to a part in the story where Elliot refers to a case and when his kids come to visit him at work for his birthday. It's an actual episode called "Contagious" from season 6.**

**So without further ado, enjoy the final chapter. Thanks for any and all feedback.**

**Laura ****xoxo**

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you I had no control over."

Anon

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000****0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Elliot Stabler liked to think he could exercise self-control. That he knew how to hold back when all he wanted to do was put a hole through a wall.

Preferably, using somebody's body part.

For two decades he'd proven that even the most asinine of perpetrators wouldn't have him lose his badge and gun for a momentary loss of control. He never gave any of them the satisfaction of knowing they were under his skin.

But he thought tonight, for the first time in over twenty years; he might have to give in.

There were a number of options he could take of course; all of which were appealing but none of which were practical when you were driving.

So, he estimated Casey had all of twenty seconds before he decided he would simply pull the Navigator over and throw her into the closest river on the way to Munch's retirement party.

She had been talking more than he had heard a human being talk in all his years on Earth; and that included those spent in a household with four females.

Olivia was doing her best to appease him; her hand on his thigh was probably the only thing keeping him sane. They exchanged a quick look as Elliot pulled into the car-park; she hid her smile with her right hand, her left rubbing his thigh soothingly. In the rear-view mirror, Lake looked as though he had half a mind to jump out of the SUV and save himself. He caught Elliot's eye in the mirror and motioned with his finger across his throat.

Next to him, Casey continued on and on about the wedding of one of her friends back home in Michigan. "And, there's the cake. At Penny Drayton's wedding, her cake was almost five tiers. It was the biggest one I've ever seen."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Casey," he started through gritted teeth, "I have no idea who Penny Drayton is."

Olivia squeezed his leg as she chuckled quietly. "Of course you don't Elliot. Haven't you been listening to _anything _I've been saying?"

Lake's eyes widened, "I need to use the bathroom."

And with that, he was out of the car before Elliot had managed to properly pull into the car-space.

"And if you ever need a wedding planner, I know a divorce lawyer whose sister is fabulous."

He bristled as Casey's head appeared between him and Olivia; lip-gloss out as she used the rear-view mirror to adjust her make-up. He would have complained, but her lips were now occupied and no longer spouting useless information about people he didn't know.

Rather, he and Olivia were now focused on Lake; who, instead of using the bathroom like he had said, was now at the car of a female detective from vice. In fact, the bathroom looked like it was the last thing on his mind.

"That asshole," Casey muttered as she pushed the door open, making a bee-line for Lake.

They watched in silence as Lake noticed her in the corner of his eye, and rushed off in the direction of the hall, Casey hot on his heels.

Olivia began to laugh, "Poor Chester. He'll never hear the end of it."

Elliot shrugged, "I think this was the calm before the storm. As long as we're engaged, I think Lake is safe."

Olivia smiled, closing her eyes. "Say it again."

He frowned in confusion. "What?"

Olivia turned her head, eyes now open. "That we're engaged."

Her smile was infectious and he couldn't help leaning in and kissing her. "We're definitely engaged."

He went to pull away, but Olivia made it extremely difficult to do, lithely climbing out of her seat and onto his lap. He had no idea how she managed to do it, but he was far from complaining.

Olivia smiled at him impishly, but he could tell that the steering wheel was probably cutting into her back. He reached down blindly and pulled the lever of his seat, holding onto Olivia as they barrelled backwards.

"Hello..." Olivia cut him off with her lips, her tongue invading his open mouth. His hands gripped her hips as her hands cupped his neck to keep his head steady.

He felt his body responding as she began to move rhythmically in his lap; the heat from her centre seeping through the material of his dress pants. She moaned as his hand cupped her breast through the gap of the dress' neckline, his finger tracing the budding skin he found peaking at his touch.

He tore his lips from hers, his voice deep and gravelly. "Liv, don't start something you can't finish."

Her eyes opened, her pupils so dilated they looked black. "You wanna skip this thing and have dinner on our couch?"

He laughed, he couldn't help it. He wanted nothing more than to take Olivia home, get out of these ridiculous clothes and sit on the couch watching rubbish television all night.

Steadying his breathing, he took Olivia's left hand in his, the ring cool against his fingertips. "As much as that thought appeals to me, Munch won't forgive us;" he nodded his head in the direction of the hall, "and what can be more fun than listening to Casey tell us what colour the toilet paper needs to be for our wedding?"

Olivia leant her head back and laughed, the length of skin she exposed tempting him beyond belief.

And he realised that as much as he wanted to go straight back home and eat take-out with Olivia on the couch, or watch terrible late night television, he wanted to tell everybody they were getting married more.

Olivia returned her gaze to his, her thumbs brushing against the underside of his ears. He was absolutely captivated as her eyes searched his own. For what, he didn't know, but she seemed to find it, because the tension in her shoulders finally seemed to ebb away.

"I'm nervous Elliot."

Her honest statement washed over him, and he realised that she was simply looking for the reassurance he would be by her side as much as she needed him for the night. She had never been nervous of her colleagues before; but then again, she had never been engaged to her ex-partner either.

Her ex-partner who had seemingly been happily married for 20 odd years.

Those close to them knew the truth; he had been loyal to his wife and Olivia to their partnership. But there would always be the small group of people who believed he and Olivia had been involved long before the disintegration of his marriage to Kathy.

He knew that in the end, she didn't really care what others thought of their situation; but when it came to his own, he knew it was different. In the first month of their relationship, he'd had to reassure her she wasn't the other woman. She was who he wanted to be with.

In that month, they both realised there probably hadn't really been anybody else.

In that month, their relationship would change irrevocably.

In that month she had read a newspaper article about soul-mates; and about the various opinions which existed by those 'in the know'. He had been laying on his side in their bed, watching her read it in what appeared a cynical manner; but underneath, he knew she felt differently. She had read it with a smile, but her eyes betrayed what her voice was saying.

Her eyes would always give her away.

He had to give her credit, she managed to keep her voice level and seemingly unaffected; but it was when she had reached the final quote of the article, her voice betrayed her. Her eyes, shining with tears, had refused to meet his until he had taken her in his arms and simply held onto her.

Breathlessly and on the brink of sleep, she confessed what she had wanted all along was confirmation that no matter what; he would always be by her side –he would always have her back, no matter what anybody said.

He had never made an easier promise.

Now, she was looking for a reaffirmation of that promise; because this was a new level of their relationship, and if Casey was anything to go by, they would definitely need to stick together.

He brushed the hair that had fallen over her eyes to the side. "I'll be right beside you all night, Liv."

She leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "You see? This is why I love you."

He grinned, cupping her cheek. "You mean it's _not_ because I'm so good-looking?"

She slapped at his chest playfully as she managed to roll herself back into her car-seat as gracefully as she had done in reverse. "You're still an idiot."

He moved his fist to his chest in with a wounded expression on his face. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

He swirled the auburn liquid in his glass, the ice clinking within as he surveyed the room. Munch and a detective friend from Baltimore were to his left, talking about something he had lost interest in as soon as the word "theory" came out of John's mouth.

His Captain and Casey were talking at their table towards the front, near the dais, and a relieved looking Lake had finally found the detective from vice he had been speaking to earlier. Most of those who filled the hall were not people he recognised, despite over two decades with the force.

But then again, most were Munch's age and therefore retired.

"As I was saying Elliot," he drew his attention away from the room and to Munch, "I think the Government is tracing all of our actions in all these new electronics they're so eagerly importing," he waved the arm holding his drink in front of him, "for all we know, they could be listening to this as well."

He shook his head in polite amusement, "Whatever you say, John. I'm sure the Government has an incredible amount of interest in your retirement party."

He laughed as Munch looked at him over his glasses. "You say that now my friend. But in three months when this is all over the internet, you'll think differently."

He took a sip of his drink in reply; wincing slightly as the liquid burnt the back of his throat. He scanned the room again, smiling politely at those he recognised; even offering a wave to Jones from Warrants.

His eyes stopped when they reached Olivia, who was now in an animated conversation with Casey and another woman he didn't recognise. Casey was holding Olivia's left hand to the woman who was fawning over her ring. And if he ever needed a physical definition of what the term 'mega-watt' smile was; then Olivia was providing him with the perfect example.

His heart clenched in his chest as he remembered just how close he'd come to never seeing that smile again. Whether it was the one she offered after his lame attempt at a joke, or when she saw him first thing in the morning, to the ones she gave to the smallest of victims to reassure them that everything would be okay; Olivia's smile could offer hope in the most dire of circumstances.

And the one he remembered most was the one she had offered him three years ago.

Three years ago, as his life was falling apart, he had wallowed in helplessness and ignored any and all attempts to be assisted. His wife had moved in with her mother, taken his children and left him with an empty house full of distant memories. Memories that only served to make him even more upset; even more unapproachable and unstable. He began to drown in "what-ifs" and "could-haves" of past mistakes, and he couldn't find the light.

Three years ago, he had experienced a case that had gnawed him to the bone and had brought him to the brink of resignation. Never, in his near two-decade service with the force, had Elliot ever really come that close to leaving the job. The job was what kept him going; what helped to keep his children safe and allowed them, if not him, to sleep at night. But he had sunk so far he had begun to suffocate, and had almost taken his frustrations out on the wife of a suspect.

But, three years ago, while most around had all but abandoned him, Olivia had been there to bring him back. She had taken it upon herself to drag him, albeit kicking and screaming, to the surface where he could clear his head. He hadn't realised it at the time, but her actions had been the catalyst for his change.

She had called the people in his life that were his ultimate driving force.

His kids

_I'm going home_

_Maybe you should stop at your desk first_

_Think you got enough candles on that cake?_

_We always have a cake_

_You have to make a wish_

_Of course I do_

Had Olivia not called his children, it would have been the first birthday he spent not surrounded by family and a birthday cake. The thought had scared him, because after over forty years of routine it was a shock to the system to suddenly be alone.

But when he had looked up at Olivia; at where she and Lizzie were stuffing their mouths with chocolate cake, he began to think. Olivia had been alone her whole life, but she had never, ever begrudged anybody of that. She had continued to do her job just as effectively as he did; but without the support he had relied upon and taken advantage of for so long.

And she did it, for the most part, with the most beautiful smile on her face.

That day had been no exception, but the next three years of their partnership, he realised that the less he offered her by way of simple gestures of appreciation; she would reciprocate less and less. He began to fear that the day there would come a time when he would forget what it looked like for Olivia to smile at him; when the memories of the evening she stood with his kids and himself around a cake with far too many candles would simply fade into his distant memory bank.

So much had happened between them both professionally and personally between that night and Olivia's kidnapping; but somewhere along the way the most effortless of actions had become an isolated past-time. Granted, there had been nothing for them to smile about. But he wondered if maybe, instead of telling Olivia that they couldn't be partners, he smiled at her and apologised, if anything would different.

But he knows, as Olivia spots him watching her, that despite their near-death experiences, he wouldn't change a thing. Besides, they weren't the sort of people to do anything really productive unless provoked.

And he hadn't seen a smile as heart-stopping as the one Olivia had given to him the day in the hospital room their lives had changed dramatically.

But he had to say, the one she was giving him now was offering some fierce competition.

He reached out his arm to place his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter, barely noticing if he'd actually made any contact. He loved it when she walked towards him, especially when she maintained such heated eye contact. To the ordinary onlooker, it would seem like a regular walk; somebody heading from A to B, but he knew Olivia's footfalls better than his own.

The way she was moving now was completely different to how she did before Ashton had kidnapped her. Since she had left him to work for Computer Crimes, she'd had a slight slouch in her walk, her eyes barely meeting the ones of those around her. He thinks it might have been the physical manifestation of the tension that existed in their partnership, of the horrors the job presented her with.

Yet, since their hospital-room confessions, her back had become straighter, her head higher and he had never seen such a beautiful vision. And it was coming towards him.

"You miss me?" Olivia kissed the side of his jaw as his arm slipped around her waist possessively.

"I was getting jealous of you and Casey," he joked, her hair tickling his cheek. "Munch thinks the Government is spying on his party."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Of course he does; he's Munch."

"And that's a bad thing?" Munch's friend had disappeared back into the crowd and his interest had been piqued at the sound of his name.

Olivia widened her eyes in feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about John."

Munch nodded, completely unconvinced. "And I was going to say nice things about you guys in my speech."

They laughed, but Elliot had the distinct feeling they were all consciously ignoring the heaviness which had settled between them. To acknowledge it would mean it was real; that saying goodbye would mean no more Munch after next week.

Elliot couldn't imagine walking into the precinct in the morning and not having sludge-like coffee to complain about; or some far-fetched claim that the Government really was trying to kill them.

"We'll miss you honey." Elliot rubbed Olivia's back as she pulled Munch into a fierce hug.

He could feel Olivia begin to shudder, and he knew that she was sobbing. Munch had always been someone for her to look up to on the job, and he found himself fighting tears of his own. Olivia let go, and immediately turned to bury her head into the crook of Elliot's neck, her tears hot against his skin. He held onto her with his left arm and dragged Munch in for as manly a hug as was possible in the position they were in.

"I'll miss you man."

Munch nodded, patting his back hard twice. He moved away, giving them a shaky smile, accepting the glass of champagne that Fin offered him.

"You better do this before Casey kills Lake," Fin said gruffly, indicating the middle of the room where the pair was in a heated discussion.

Elliot kissed the top and Olivia's head as he led her back to their table to where a much calmer Casey was peeling the label off her beer, a quiet Lake to her left. "I hate goodbyes."

He nodded in ascent, squeezing the hand Olivia had linked through his own. Most of the people gathered had taken their seats, the conversation settling to a low mumble. Munch had made his way to the microphone, tapping it to check if it was working.

He cleared his throat, the sound reverberating through the hall. "Everyone got a seat?"

There was a chorus of 'yes' from various points in the room, most notably from Morales who had already had entirely too much to drink.

"I wanted to start by thanking everybody for coming here tonight. I've worked as a detective for so long, and been to so many places I forget how many people I know," he paused, smiling, "whether they like me or not."

A rumble of polite laughter filled the room, and Elliot couldn't help but notice Fin was staring at the surface of the table. He had a blank expression on his face, his finger tracing the condensation which had formed on his glass.

Munch continued. "I just wanted to share a story with you guys. It's short, and free of theories," he smiled, scanning the room, "although I will be available afterwards for those interested."

Laughter again. Then silence. Heavy and sullen.

"Over two decades ago I was partnered with a guy who loved the job so completely that the day I found out he ate his gun, I didn't believe it. I couldn't."

Elliot took a sip of his water, his throat suddenly dry. "I went to his funeral and listened to the eulogy his best friend gave. There were the obligatory niceties and exploration of past experiences. But what stood out was when he spoke about the way Tony had become withdrawn from those outside the job. Shut out his friends and his family."

The room was so quiet that Elliot could hear Munch's intake of breath clearly. Olivia had joined Fin in keeping her eyes on the white tablecloth, the fingers of her right hand scratching at a stain as though she could wipe it away.

"It's no secret that I've had a number of unsuccessful marriages," a self-deprecating chuckle, "but I think it had a lot to do with the fear that I would lose touch with reality; get so absorbed in the job that I'd turn out like Tony. That'd I'd just give up on life because there was nothing for me but the long hours and mountains of paperwork. I thought that I would only ever be defined by the boundaries of being a detective, and never have an identity separate to it."

Munch's eyes roved over the table where he, Olivia and the rest of the squad were sitting. "I thought I would end up like Tony. But then I joined Special Victim's."

Olivia squeezed Elliot's hand tightly; her glassy eyes now back on Munch. Fin had done the same, and Casey swiped at her cheek where a tear had fallen.

"And I learnt through the people I met, and worked with, and lived in the pockets of..."

Olivia's laugh caught in her throat, and Elliot released her hand so he could pull her to him. Munch was moving into territory that only those in the room, who had experienced similar accounts, would understand.

It was the feeling of hopelessness. Of being sucked into the darkest reaches possible and living in a world of shadows. Where nothing was tangible but everything was real. There were times when he himself had contemplated ending it all; to give up because it seemed so much easier.

Because he felt that the no matter what he did, things just got worse. And everything was different.

_Everything's changing, Liv_

_Maybe you are?_

It had taken a heart to heart with Olivia for him to finally realise, that despite his situation with Kathy, he was too important for so many other people to just give up the fight.

He was more than just the job; he was a father to his children.

And he was everything to Olivia.

Since then, he relied on that connection, on that definition, outside of work, to pull him through.

And he couldn't be happier.

He kissed Olivia's head as Munch cleared his throat again. "I learnt that the job is far from everything; that if you work with certain individuals your life can change for the better. Yes, the job will kill you sometimes; everybody goes through that; even ADA's..."

Casey laughed, another tear escaping and sliding down her cheek. This time, she made no effort to get rid of it. Elliot could feel Olivia's own on his neck again, and he knew that this was as much the truth for her as it was for him. That, like him, she had come close to leaving everything for a promise of nothing.

Because sometimes the nothing was much more appealing than the emptiness.

Munch shifted where he stood. "But if you're lucky like me, you know after even the worst day possible, you can meet your best friends for a drink to make it a little better. Friends who remind you that there is more to life after the working day is over. That although it's hard, we have others in our life who need us to go on..."

"In our children," he rose his glass to Fin and Cragen, "in our significant others," to Casey and Lake, "and in each other," to Elliot and Olivia.

They raised their glasses, albeit shakily, the others in the room slowly following their lead.

"And although not all of us are lucky enough to have it, I can safely say I do. So thank you."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

When Lizzie was nine years old she vowed never again to speak to Dickie. Shoulders squared, chest puffed-out, she declared she would never, ever, forgive him for breaking the head off her favourite Barbie Doll. It was easily repaired, but she had lasted two days completely ignoring her twin before she caved; falling for Dickie's peace offering of triple chocolate cookies.

But in the two days she had given Dickie the silent treatment, she had introduced Elliot to her imaginary friend, Jenny. He'd sat on the sofa in their living room, and listened with a straight face as Lizzie told him all about her new best friend in the whole wide world. Her face had been bright, her eyes wide as she recounted their experience in the backyard exploring the various, and possibly dangerous, flora and fauna.

So happy had she been, that two days later, he had been surprised to walk into the twins' bedroom to see Dickie and her putting on a show for their very patient mother. He watched, amused, and completely absorbed in their display, clapping loudly with Kathy as they took their bows.

While Dickie followed Kathy into the kitchen for ice-cream, he had helped Lizzie pack away the various toys scattered around the room. He'd brought up Jenny, and asked if she had been in the play as well, and if they were still friends.

Lizzie looked at him seriously, her brow furrowed, as she told him she didn't like Jenny anymore, they'd had a fight and were no longer friends. She said that when Jenny was around she had to pretend to be better at everything to impress her.

Elliot had laughed, but stopped mid-way when he realised she was entirely serious. And when she answered his last question, he wondered when his daughter had become so unassumingly wise.

_You forgave Dickie because he gave you cookies?_

_No, I don't even really like those cookies._

_S__o why did you forgive him?_

_Because I can be myself with him__ Daddy_

He never really understood the full meaning behind his daughter's words until very recently.

It wasn't until he was sitting with Olivia that Sunday, three and a half weeks into their relationship. The cotton sheets cool against his heated skin as Olivia moved off him, her silky hair brushing against his chest. They had spent the entire day in bed, only leaving the room when it was absolutely necessary.

Luckily, he had collected the paper earlier in the morning, and Olivia had thought it would be amusing to read each other's star signs. Normally, she'd read them the day after and see how accurate they had or hadn't been.

This particular Sunday however, before she'd even had to chance to reach them, she'd come across the article on soul mates; her smile coy as she pretended to seem unaffected by what she was reading. He'd remained still, his fingers brushing the length of the leg resting over his waist, completely absorbed in the way that Olivia's lips were moving; with the words that were coming out of her mouth.

His heart had pounded, his fingers moving higher to tangle in her hair, against her cheek as her eyes became shiny. But she didn't cry. She wouldn't.

So she continued instead.

_"Here, listen to this, El."_

_He shifted to his side, propping his elbow so he could rest his head on his hand. He had noticed a shift in Olivia's mood. Just from the way that her shoulders had squared somewhat, in the way her breathing pattern changed. Just a little bit._

_Just enough for him to sense it._

_"What is it?" He moved his hand from her hair, resting it on her leg again._

_"Quote on __soulmates__." She shifted in the bed until she was straddling his waist. _

_Sensing the importance, he ignored the way her breasts swayed so tantali__zingly in front of him; the way__ her heat was pressed against his stomach._

_"What's it say?"_

_He watched Olivia shrug; her way of feigning indifference. But he need o__nly look at her face to see __this mattered. That his opinion on what she was about to read to him mattered. _

_So he listened._

_"Ready?" He gave her a smile, a quirk of his lips to encourage her. "It's from a guy called Richard Bach. It's long...I can cut some of it out if you..."_

_"Liv?"__ He cupped her cheek, "just tell me what it says."_

_She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He felt her shudder slightly as she took a deep breath, a shaky smile gracing her features._

_"__A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for __who__ we're pretending to be."_

_His heart beat accelerated, his hand rubbing her forearm as a tear escaped. He watched it, enthralled, as it dropped from her chin onto his hand. __But he was too focused on her word__s;__ on how they were making his stomach clench at their __levity, at their hidden meaning, to wipe it away_

_Hidden to others, and he realised, hidden to himself as well._

_Until now._

_He had spent his whole life being somebody else. He was a father to his children and a husband to his wife, but he had been pretending. Never with his emotions; because he loved his children - more than himself - there was no questioning that._

_But he pretended to be strong in front of them. He pretended to be a menacing figure who would intimidate potential partners of theirs. He pretended to be the man that had all the answers to their life questions._

_He pretended to be somebody he really wasn't._

_He realised that the only person he had never pretended in front of was Olivia._

_She could always see through his bullshit._

_She knew that sometimes, after the hardest cases, he'd take a long shower; the sound of the cascading water muffling his own sobs._

_She knew he kept a chocolate bar in his locker even though he'd swear blind he never ate the stuff._

_She knew that underneath the hardened Detective __Stabler__ exterior, there was a person who simply wanted to keep his kids safe from the horrors he saw __everyday_

_And now she was sitting in front of him – hell, on top of him, and she was returning the favour. She was showing him, finally, that despite her derisiveness in the first year of their partnership when the subject was broached__; she believed in __soulmates_

_The Detective Benson that everybody else knew would never take her for somebody who believed in something so...feminine. __So not hard-ass._

_But he knew, like her, it was mainly a façade. Like him, Olivia did her fair share of pretending as well._

_She pretended that every rape case they investigated didn't remind her of her mother. She pretended finding her half-brother wasn't one of the most thrilling things to ever happen to her. She pretended __t__ransferring out of SVU had been the right decision at the time._

_But he __knew SVU was in her blood; __despite her protests it was a job._

_He knew at the end of the day, she'd steal the chocolate bar in his locker and claim the cleaners removed food to stop bug infestation and that he hated the stuff anyway._

_He knew under the hardened exterior that was Detective Benson, there was the most beautiful __person he had ever encountered, __who simply wanted to stop people from becoming victims like her mother._

_He was broken out of his trance by the feel of Olivia's lips on the tip of his nose, then on his top lip. __"You still there?"_

_He smiled, holding her head in place so he could maintain contact. "Yeah," he finally mumbled._

_He groaned as she pulled back. "There's more."_

_His heart flipped at that; he honestly didn't know if he would able to take anymore, but she was fixing him with that look again, and he knew leaving was not an option._

_Not anymore._

_"Go on, Liv."_

_He rubbed her leg, watching as she found her place again, "Okay. __Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our __soulmate__ is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life."_

_She wasn't looking at him anymore; her eyes remained fixed on the paper in her shaking hands. Christ, she looked like__ she was about to burst into te__ars. He hated it when she cried;__ he hated it because it was something that made him physically ache._

_The sound of their breathing filled the room and she still wasn't looking at him. But she wasn't crying either. She was just sitting there, blinking slowly as she seemed to absorb the words she'd just said._

_He tried to think of something to say to break__ the silence; to make her smile, t__o make her do anything._

_Then finally, mercifully, she spoke. Her voice had been tiny, so quiet__, but he was finally listening, and he heard her clearly_

_"El, if I told you, you were my fucking balloon would it be the cheesiest thing you'__ve__ ever heard?"_

_He sat up __so quickly even he was surprised at his agility. His arms wrapped around her, her skin soft under his rough palms. She tilted her head towards where his lips were settled against her ear._

_"You're my fucking balloon too Liv. Don't you ever forget __tha__t!__"_

_And then she had kissed him._

_And __everything insignificant__fell away._

"You still there?"

Elliot smiled, accepting the glass of wine Olivia offered him. "Yeah, just thinking."

Olivia crawled along the mattress, the material of his NYPD sweater dwarfing her, teasing him as it rode up her legs as she moved towards him.

She grinned back sassily as she paused before she reached him. "You know the last time you did some thinking, it resulted in an engagement. I don't know if I can take much more tonight."

He laughed, opening his arms so she could settle against his side, smiling into her hair as she pressed as close as she could.

For all the times they had spent as far away from each other during the most trying times of their partnership, they had more than made up for it in the past year.

"I was just thinking about tonight, that's all."

Olivia's breath was warm against his bare shoulder, her hand soothing the skin of his abs. "It was lovely," he nodded, shifting as Olivia's fingers drifted to the material of his boxers, "very Munch-like."

He hissed, her hands making contact with his manhood. "Can you not talk about Munch when you're doing that please?"

She laughed against his jaw, her tongue tasting the skin. "What's on your mind?"

He placed the glass of wine on the bedside table, his other hand trailing lazily in Olivia's hair. The silky strands slipping easily through his fingers as her lips continued to tease the side of his face.

"About what John said tonight..."

Olivia's hand stilled, but her lips pressed tighter against the side of his head, an almost imperceptible nod brushing the stubble on his cheek.

"I just...Liv..."

He could never get over how gracefully Olivia moved. Especially when it was over him; her eyes maintaining smouldering eye contact as she accepted him inside her body.

Before he could even draw a breath, he found himself right there; buried inside the only home he'd ever really known.

Olivia's lips were at his ear again, and she was whispering. "I know Elliot, I know." She released a groan, "me too, El."

Elliot found the motivation to move, bringing his arms up and under his sweatshirt. It was hers now though; apparently it smelt like him and she'd wear it during the long cases when they were separated. He wonders momentarily if she wears it at work in the cribs during one of those all-night jobs; if she thinks about him the way he thinks about her as he pushes his head into her pillow so he is overwhelmed by her scent.

Really, it shouldn't be healthy to want, to need, an individual this much.

To rely on their mere presence to get through the day.

There had been a time where they could barely tolerate the other's existence; where they couldn't stand the other's proximity on the job. And his heart jolted again as her mouth moved from his to his left shoulder, her tongue tracing the scar that now resided there.

His hands moved up her bare back and fisted in her hair, pulling her face to his. "Do you remember what you told me after Ashton shot me, Liv?"

Olivia's eyes were closed, her breath coming out in short pants as she rolled her hips down. But he saw her nod. Just once.

But it was enough.

He thrust up, his lips pressing hot kisses to her collarbone. "What did you tell me Liv?"

Olivia moaned, her nails scratching at his shoulder blades. "That...oh El." Her head dropped to the crook of his neck as her body released around his pulsing length.

He groaned at the sensation of her body gripping his erection so viciously, but he tried his best to remain composed. He almost lost it however, when Olivia's eyes finally met his; the brown so dark it was almost black.

She smiled so brightly, despite the effect his body was having on hers, so brightly he almost came. Yet he held on. Just.

But it was enough.

"I told you, that if you left me, I wouldn't make it."

His lips caught hers in a devastating kiss as soon as she got the sentence out, his tongue seeking her own almost desperately. She whimpered into his mouth as he began to move inside of her again, her body was obviously still sensitive and he smiled against her lips despite himself. He pulled away when his head began to spin from lack of oxygen, occupying his lips with her neck instead.

Olivia squealed as he sat up, one arm behind him to keep him stable, the other seeking out the tiny nub of nerves that would have her exploding his arms. Her head had dropped back again, as her hands reached out behind her to grasp the firm muscles of his thighs for leverage.

"Liv?"

He flicked his thumb the sensitive flesh as he spoke, smirking as Olivia's head shot forward, her mouth open in a silent scream. But her eyes held his. Not for long.

But it was enough.

"Me too baby, me too."

He groaned into her chest as he exploded inside of her, her muscles gripping at him so tightly they almost pushed him right back out. Olivia's moans were so loud he brought her mouth back to his to muffle the screams as best he could, his teeth nipping at her bottom lips as she began to settle against him.

He lay back, manoeuvring himself into a lying position, Olivia still content to stay on top of his spent body. Not that he minded. Not really.

She moved her head so she could look at him, and he held back a chuckle at the state of her hair. "Loving this look, Olivia."

She rolled her eyes, bringing her left hand up to run against his face, tracing the lines that were becoming more pronounced. "I love you, El."

He kissed her thumb as it passed over his lips. "Love you too, Liv."

She bit her lip, smiling as her eyes moved to her ring. "Olivia Stabler," she looked back up at him, "I like the sound of that."

He kissed the palm of her hand, the muscles in his cheeks beginning to hurt from being so overworked. "I don't think anything's sounded so perfect."

Olivia's nose crinkled as she laughed. "You're a charmer Stabler. I need to watch my back with you."

He drew her lips towards his so they were barely touching. "You got nothing to worry about Stabler," he swallowed her gasp in a quick kiss, "'cause I've already got it."

And he realises, he always has.

Not long after, Olivia's breathing evened out, and he knew she was asleep; her breath light against his chest comforting him. Her heartbeat was having the same effect, its slowing rhythm thrumming against his cooling skin.

He brushed her arm lightly with his fingertips and he found it hard to remember a time when he'd felt so alive.

Her words play over in his head, in some wonderful loop; her voice sultry, on the edge of oblivion as she tells him that he is her everything.

That if he left her, she wouldn't make it. And he knew, without even pausing, that it worked both ways.

He'd spent his whole life willing to die for those who meant the most to him and for those he served to protect.

He thinks now, he understands what it truly means to live for somebody.

Because he's finally, gloriously, come to his senses.

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**The End**

**00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**So, sequel?****Companion piece?****General feedback?**** Let me know! ****R/R.**


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